


Apartment 3C

by sneetchstar



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluff and more fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22356826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneetchstar/pseuds/sneetchstar
Summary: And they were neighbors (oh my god they were neighbors)
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 139
Kudos: 498
Collections: Still Rowing: A Gendrya Centric Fanfic Collection





	1. Chapter 1

There is a thump and then indistinct yelling. Arya looks up at the ceiling, sighs, and puts her earbuds in her ears, determined to ignore the noise from above and keep working.

Ten minutes later, there is more banging. She can hear it even with the earphones in, over her music.

It’s been like this for nearly a month. Several nights a week and always on the weekends, there is raucous noise and general revelry from the apartment above hers. Shouting, mysterious thumps and bangs. Once she swears someone had to have dropped an anvil on the floor, it was so loud.

It wouldn’t be so bad if she wasn’t trying to get her doctorate in Westerosi history. It wouldn’t be so bad if she could just _finish this damned dissertation_ and not spend nearly every waking moment of her life researching ancient weaponry and fighting techniques from their country’s bloody and violent past.

She very clearly hears a male voice yell, “Yeah! Fuck you! _Eat it!_ ” and that is _it_.

“Gods damn them,” she mutters, yanking the buds from her ears and tossing them on the desk. “If I don’t graduate this spring I am _killing_ whoever lives up there.” She stands and marches to her door, nearly forgetting to grab her keys from the dish on her way out.

 _3C_. Arya glares at the apartment door like she’s trying to burn a hole right through it. She raises her fist, and just before she knocks, she hears another loud bang, followed by a shout of “Suck my dick!”

It only makes her knock even harder than she was going to in the first place. She pounds on the door, fuming.

A few seconds later, the door is opened, and the next five seconds are spent in perplexed silence as two strangers stare at each other.

_Fuck, he’s gorgeous._

_Fuck, she’s gorgeous._

“Y-you’re not the pizza guy,” he finally stammers, staring down into a scowling face containing the most amazing gray ( _are they silver?_ ) eyes he’s ever seen. She’s tiny, barely reaching his shoulder, wearing a Winterfell Direwolves hoodie and hot pink shorts over shapely legs leading down to fuzzy blue slipper-clad feet. Her hair is in a messy bun, and there are two pencils stuck in it.

“No, I’m not,” she answers, managing to keep her voice annoyed despite nearly losing her ire at the sight of his dumb perfect face and the bluest (dumbest) eyes she’s ever seen. And how stupidly hot he looks in a tight black t-shirt, ripped jeans, and ridiculously large bare feet. And his even stupider well-muscled forearms. “I’m your neighbor. From downstairs. In 2C.”

Suddenly those stupid blue eyes widen in alarm. “Shit, we’re being too loud, aren’t we? Oh gods, I am so sorry!” he says, horrified and contrite, and somehow she finds herself ushered inside, where she sees four other guys piled around the living room, game controllers in hand in front of a paused game, all staring at her like a collection of startled deer. “Fuck, you… you look like you’re studying or something, too…”

“Yes. And this isn’t the first time,” she says, her anger fizzling into annoyance at the face of how upset he is over it. “It sounds like you guys are holding like a fight club up here. Or filming some seriously violent, hardcore gay porn, because sometimes…” she lets the words trail off, tilting her head just so and raising her eyebrows.

“That’s Anguy! He’s the worst!” a chubby dark-haired man accuses, pointing at a thin, brown-haired guy across the room.

“Eat my ass, Hot Pie,” Anguy retorts.

“See?” Hot Pie answers, waving a hand in Anguy’s direction again.

“I told you lot we were being too loud,” a smallish blonde man says. “I’m surprised she didn’t just call the cops.”

“Look, I’m really sorry,” her host apologizes again. “We’ll keep it down… we’ll try, anyway. Look, let me give you my number so you can just text me if it happens again instead of running up here.”

Arya pats her pockets. _Did I really come up to a stranger’s apartment without my phone?_ “Shit, I was so annoyed I must have left my phone downstairs,” she says. “Not the wisest move I’ve made.”

“True, but I promise you’re safe,” he says with a shy smile that almost completely disarms her. “Here,” he passes her his phone instead.

She hesitantly takes it, her fingers bumping his in a very distracting way for a very distracting moment. “Okay,” she says.

“I won’t harass you. Scout’s honor,” he says.

“You were never a scout!”

“Shut it, Thoros!” he says, turning his head to yell at his friend. When he turns back towards her, he can see she is trying not to laugh.

She gives him his phone back, and he sees then name _Arya 2C_ in his contacts. “I, um, added my apartment so you would know who it is,” she says.

“Thanks… Arya,” he replies. “I’ll send you a text so you get my number. I’m really sorry we bothered you.”

“Thank you for not being a dick about it,” she says, turning and putting her hand on the doorknob.

“Do you want to stay and join us for pizza? It’s due any minute,” he offers, somehow wanting to keep her there.

“Um, thanks, but I can’t. I need to get back to my dissertation,” she says, turning the knob.

His eyebrows rise. “Dissertation? Are you working on your doctorate?”

“Trying.”

“Very cool. Good luck,” he says, giving her that shy smile again as she opens the door and disappears down the corridor.

He hopes she is far enough away that she doesn’t hear the guys’ comments about her after he closes the door. Comments he promptly shuts down with a terse growl of, “I saw her first,” followed by, “She’s out of all our leagues anyway, so cool it.” Then he texts her.

When Arya returns to her apartment, she half-expects there to be no text waiting for her, figuring he’d text her eventually, if he even does. But when she picks up her phone, she sees a new message from an unknown number.

_Hi. I’m Gendry._

xXx

To Gendry’s credit, he actually manages to keep things _fairly_ quiet during the following week. And when there is a louder noise, he’s started sending her pre-emptive apology texts, which she does not want to admit is kind of cute of him.

She can hear him walking around, and while that’s nothing remarkable, it only brings to mind his dumb bare feet (and the rest of his stupid hot body) that she can’t seem to get out of her head.

_You know what they say about guys with big feet…_

She shakes the ridiculous thought away and tucks her phone in her coat pocket before heading out to meet her sister at a nearby pub.  
  
About an hour later, Arya finally grabs her phone out of her pocket while Sansa is in the bathroom. It has been buzzing like crazy.

_G: Sorry_

_G: Sorry!_

_G: SHIT I’M SORRY_

_G: Hot Pie bumped into the table and knocked over Anguy’s beer._

_G: Aaaaand that was Hot Pie, getting knocked over by Anguy._

_G: I AM SO SORRY DON’T HATE ME_

_G: I told them they’ll have to leave if they can’t act like adult humans._

Arya finds herself giggling at the stream of messages from Gendry while she types her reply.

_A: It’s okay. I’m not home anyway._

_G: Whew good._

_G: Where are you?_

_A: Nosy much?_

_G: Shit, sorry, you’re right. Not my business._

_A: Relax, I was joking. I’m out with my sister. She had a baby last month and this is her first time out without her._

Arya doesn’t know why she just told him all that, and tells him so.

_G: It’s cool. LMK when you get home so I can make sure this lot is on company manners._

“What are you grinning at?” Sansa asks, startling Arya with the silence of her return.

“Hmm?” Arya looks up, eyes wide. “Oh. My upstairs neighbor. I sort of confronted him last weekend because he and his mates were being incredibly loud while I was working on my dissertation. Apparently they’re being loud again tonight and he was texting me to apologize.”

“That doesn’t explain why you were grinning,” Sansa points out, leaning over to try and see her screen. “Is he fit? Do you fancy your neighbor?”

“He’s…” she pauses, shaking her head as she looks for the right word. _Adorable. Stupidly sweet. Surprisingly charming._ “An idiot.”

“So you _do_ fancy him then. I know your type,” Sansa says with a smirk.

Arya purses her lips and admits, “He’s _crazy_ hot.”

“I knew it!”

“Shut up!”

“And he was, like, super contrite about the noise. We have each other’s numbers because he wanted me to be able to text him when they bothered me,” Arya explains.

Sansa slowly nods, humoring her sister. “Yes, I’m sure that’s the reason.”

“It is!”

“What are they doing that’s so noisy?”

“Gaming. I told them it sounded like they were having a fight club or filming really violent gay porn,” she says. Sansa’s eyes widen. “Well, when you hear things like ‘yeah, suck it!’ accompanied by a lot of banging and grunting…” she trails off with a shrug.

Sansa takes a long drink, then sets her glass down on the table. “And they have to do that at his place?”

“You know, I’ll have to ask him that sometime. If I ever see him again, I mean,” Arya answers.

“You literally live in the same building. You’ll see him again,” Sansa says. Then she leans closer to her sister and adds, “Actually, you should definitely find a reason to see him again.” Arya makes a face. “Let me see the texts.”

“Why?”

“Research. Let me _see_.”

“Fine.” Arya pulls up the text thread and passes it to Sansa.

She reads through all of them. “Oh yeah, he’s into you,” she declares, passing the phone back her stunned but skeptical sister. “What?”

“When I went up there, I looked a mess,” Arya admits with a sigh. “Like a _right_ mess.”

“Did you have food on your shirt? A big nasty bogey hanging from your nose? Spinach in your teeth?” Sansa asks.

“No,” Arya answers with a laugh. She tells her sister what she was wearing.

“Pssh, you’re fine,” Sansa dismissively declares. “Guys generally don’t pay attention that closely to that kind of thing. Plus, you look super cute with a messy bun, and you have killer legs and a great arse.”

Arya blinks in surprise. “Thanks.”

“Now. I’m tired, and ready to go home. When you get home, text that crazy hot man that you’re home and see what happens,” Sansa declares, standing and grabbing her coat.

“I suppose you’ll want a full report tomorrow?”

“Obviously.”

xXx

Arya plops onto her couch a half an hour later her phone cradled in her limp hand on the cushion beside her, Sansa’s words spinning through her head.

 _Fuck it. He told you to text him. It would be rude not to._ She shoots him a quick text that she’s home, then closes her eyes, enjoying the quiet.

Quiet.

_Why is it quiet?_

Her eyes fly open just as her phone buzzes in her hand.

_G: You’re in luck. Anguy and Hot Pie kept bitching at each other, so I sent everyone home about 15 minutes ago. They were giving me a damn headache._

Just as she begins trying to figure out if she’s glad or disappointed, her phone buzzes again.

_G: I’ve got a shit-ton of takeaway up here, if you’re hungry._

Her eyes widen and she frantically texts Sansa. Her sister’s reply is fast and succinct.

_S: GO._

_A: Should I? Is it weird?_

_S: You haven’t changed clothes yet, have you? If you haven’t, you should definitely go so he can see you looking intentionally cute._

Arya has to admit Sansa has a very good point. She is just about to text her back when she gets another message from Gendry.

_G: Or not, it’s cool. Never mind, you’re probably tired._

Arya winces, realizing she took too long to answer.

_A: What kind of food are we talking here?_

Then she texts Sansa that she’s going and ignores the reply that consists mainly of euphemistic emojis.

_G: YiTish. From Jade Sea._

_A: Be right there._

She had already taken her shoes off and doesn’t really want to put them back on, so she dons the blue fuzzy slippers and heads out. Remembering to bring her phone with this time.

xXx

Gendry doesn’t know what possessed him to invite her up. Then, when she didn’t answer right away, he began panicking, frantically trying to figure out a graceful exit, tapping his fingers on the sofa and gnawing on his bottom lip the whole time.

He had noticed her around in the few weeks since he’s moved in. Most of the time she was moving too fast to really get a good look at her; she was just a small form with dark hair and a great ass. He never actually saw her face until last Saturday when she angrily banged on his door and he found himself staring into the scowling face of a godsdamned angel.

He tries to tell himself to be rational. _Maybe she was trashed and passed out. Maybe she’s in the shower. Maybe she brought someone home with her from wherever she was and they’re down there fucking._ That last thought makes his frown deepen. And when a whole minute passes and she doesn’t reply, he curses and sends her an opportunity to back out.

When she immediately answers, he nearly drops his phone. And when she says she’ll come, he panics even more, flying around trying to tidy up.

He straightens pillows and wipes down the coffee table and throws away crumpled napkins. He stops in the middle of the room and sniffs the air. _Does it smell in here? Shit. I have no idea; I bloody live here. I should light a cand—_

Her knock, much more polite this time, breaks into his frantic thoughts, and the only thing he can do now is look down and make sure there are no stains on his shirt.


	2. Chapter 2

The door to apartment 3C opens once more, and this time Arya feels an unbidden smile tug at her lips as she looks up at the man who opened it.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey yourself,” Gendry answers, stepping aside so she can enter. “No dissertation tonight?” he asks.

“Nope.”

“You finished?”

“Nope,” she repeats, slowly walking around his living room. “My academic advisor ordered me to take the weekend off. He said something about resting and recharging and returning with fresh eyes,” she says.

“You don’t agree?” he asks. “Beer?”

“Water, please.” She answers the second question first. When he returns with two bottles of water, she says, “I like to work uninterrupted.”

“Ouch,” he says with a chuckle. She laughs but doesn’t apologize for the indirect jab at their inauspicious meeting a week ago. _Nor should she_ , he realizes, and lets it go. He extends his arm towards the sofa. “Does the lady prefer a booth or a table?”

“I’ll take the sofa, thanks,” she answers, walking over and plopping down on his prized leather sofa. “Ooh, this is nice,” she appraises, running her hands over the surface. “Very soft.”

“Thanks,” he answers, bringing the boxes of food out, along with two plates and forks. “Here, this lifts up,” he says, grabbing the top of the coffee table and pulling it upwards.

“Ooh,” Arya appraises, watching as he raises the table top to a reasonable height for dining. She ducks her head and looks under it, interested in the mechanism. “Cool.”

“Thanks,” Gendry answers. “I, um, I made it.”

“You _made_ this?”

“Yeah. That’s what I do. I make furniture. Mostly hard surfaces. Tables and dressers and things like that. Upholstery is not my thing,” he says. “Help yourself.”

“That’s really cool,” she says, smiling at him before poking her fork into one of the containers to scoot some of the food inside onto her plate. “Oh, you got dumplings…”

He’s not sure if his heart is racing or if it has stopped. “Is it? I mean, thank you,” he replies.

 _Okay, he’s adorable when he blushes._ “What else did you make?” she brightly asks, looking around. “The TV stand, I bet.”

“Yeah,” he admits. “And the media cabinet. And the dinette set in the kitchen. And m-my bed frame.”

The way he stumbles over mentioning his bed does not miss Arya, and she can’t stop herself from saying, “You’ll have to give me the tour later.” As soon as the words are out, she wants to snatch them back. _Either I sound like I’m trying to get in his bed – which is currently up for debate – or I sound like an idiot, because his apartment looks just like mine._

She exhales in relief when he doesn’t seem to think either thing. He simply smiles and says, “Sure.”

They spend a few quiet moments just eating and making small, innocuous comments on the food. Gendry even convinces Arya to try one of the dishes she had never tried before because she didn’t think she’d like it.

She was right. She didn’t like it, which just made both of them laugh again.

“What is your dissertation on?” he suddenly asks.

“Ancient weaponry and its evolution through Westeros’ history,” she answers.

“Whoa, really? That’s really fucking cool,” he replies, turning towards her, truly and thoroughly impressed. “Like dragonglass and Valyrian steel and all that?”

She smiles, inexplicably excited that he’s excited. “Yes! You know about that stuff?”

“I have had extensive training as a blacksmith,” he answers. “I’ve done some work with dragonglass, but have yet to truly master Valyrian. I will though.”

“It’s tricky stuff. They used to think you had to use—”

“Magic, yeah.”

They stare at each other, food momentarily forgotten.

“Yeah, magic,” Arya says, her voice incredibly soft.

 _Magic, indeed_ , Gendry thinks, and he feels himself leaning, his body drawn towards her like a magnet. She seems to be under the same spell, because he sees her gaze flit to his lips for a moment before returning to his eyes.

Then her phone buzzes and she jumps. “Shit,” she whispers.

Spell broken.

She pulls her phone out and seems to have some difficulty unlocking it. Gendry notices her fingers fumbling a bit, but he can’t be smug because he is currently chugging his water like there’s a pot of gold (or Arya) at the bottom in an attempt to settle himself.

“My sister,” Arya says. “She came home and found her husband asleep on the couch with their daughter asleep on his chest. Sent a pic because she thought they looked adorable.” She shows Gendry the photo and he smiles.

“They are so tiny. Hard to believe we were ever that small,” he says. “Well, hard to believe _I_ was, anyway,” he adds, smirking playfully at Arya.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Was that a short joke?”

He widens his eyes, a picture of innocence. “Never!”

She glares at him, then steals the last dumpling off of his plate.

“Hey!”

“It’s what you deserve,” she declares, biting half of it. Then, surprising them both, she feeds him the other half off of her fork.

He can’t find it in him to complain about it after that.

Now it’s her turn to blush and she returns her attention to her food. A minute later, she seems to find a safe topic of conversation. “So why were they bitching at each other? Your two friends?”

“Oh, after Hot Pie spilled Anguy’s beer and he retaliated by knocking Hot Pie over, they decided they were hacked off at each other and just started sniping at everything. Lommy – he’s the skinny blond one – decided to leave shortly after. He doesn’t deal with real-world stress and conflict very well.”

“My brother Bran is like that.”

“Finally Thoros and I decided that we’d had enough, and I told them all to go home.”

“It’s not nice to knock a friend over just because he accidentally spilled your beer,” she observes.

“Yeah, well the jury is out on how accidental it was. Anguy had just killed Hot Pie in the game, so…” Gendry says with a shrug.

Arya shakes her head and leans back, full. “Do you ever go to one of theirs to play?”

“Rarely. I have the best setup. Hot Pie lives with his mum – she’s disabled and needs assistance. Lommy’s place is tiny, Anguy’s is a fucking pig sty, and Thoros doesn’t have a TV. Do you do any gaming? I mean when you’re not being a doctoral student?”

“Not really. I have four brothers, but only one of the older two would let me play with him, and I was never very good. And the younger two didn’t play anything that looked interesting to me.”

“Wait, you have _four_ brothers _and_ a sister? Wait, do you have more than one sister?”

“No, just the one sister. We didn’t get along as kids, but we’re great friends now, thankfully. What about you?” she asks.

“Just me. Was just me and my mum. Never knew my dad. Well, I know now who he was, and… yeah, I’m better off without him.” He begins cleaning up the food and she stands to help him.

“Is your mum gone now?” she carefully asks.

“Yeah. She died when I was nine,” he answers. “Foster homes from that point on.”

“Wow, that’s rough,” she observes, following him to the kitchen.

“It was. Until I got my apprenticeship. That helped a lot,” he says.

They make quick work of what’s left of the food, and Arya makes a point to inspect the table. It’s a beautiful bistro set, a small, round bar-height table with two tall chairs. The wood has a very defined grain that has been enhanced more by the finish. “These are upholstered,” she points out, poking the cushion on one of the chairs. Then she hops up and sits on it.

“I had that done,” Gendry explains, walking over towards her.

“It’s a beautiful table,” she says, her palms flat on the wood. She spreads her fingers out and runs them over the surface. “Very smooth.”

“That was the intention,” he responds. She suddenly turns in the chair and he jumps back to avoid getting kicked. “Nice slippers.”

“I didn’t feel like putting my shoes back on,” she says, kicking her feet up straight for a second before dropping back to the floor.

“Valid,” he agrees, absently wiggling his bare toes against the floor.

Arya allows herself a moment to appraise him. _Gods, how did I not notice he’s wearing fucking sweatpants?_ She tears her eyes away from his groin before he can catch her looking. “But except for the footwear, I’m more reasonably dressed than I was last time you saw me,” she says, inwardly cringing. _Why did I bring that up?_

“There was nothing unreasonable about what you were wearing last week,” he says. She starts walking away. “Where are you going?”

“I want to see your bed,” she says. _Fuck fuck fuck I’m a whore he’s going to think I’m a whore._

“Uh… okay…” he replies, trailing after her. She’s standing in the doorway of his room, hesitant to enter, when he catches up to her. “You can go in if you want.”

“I’m not, like… trying to… seduce you or anything,” she haltingly says, not looking at him.

“What? I didn’t think you—”

“I just want to see your handiwor— craftsmanshi—” Arya huffs. “There’s nothing I can say that doesn’t sound like a double entendre now.” She turns around and sees Gendry red in the face once again, except this time it is because he is trying not to laugh at her.

“Just go in before I have a stroke,” he finally says.

“I should let you have one just for laughing at me,” she retorts, but walks into the room. The bed is a huge, king-sized beast with a frame made of solid dark wood. It’s beautiful; modern styling but somehow classically timeless as well. “Did you design this or just build it?” she asks, her voice taking on that soft tone again.

The soft tone that has started making him feel all squishy inside. “Both,” he admits.

“It’s beautiful,” she declares. Before he can feel too good, she adds, “Your dressers don’t match it though.”

He sighs. “I’m working on those. In between real jobs.”

“Fair enough,” she declares, walking towards the door, where he is still hovering. She wonders if he stayed there intentionally so she wouldn’t feel threatened.

She follows him back out into the living room, where suddenly things feel a little charged and a little awkward.

“Arya?” he asks, looking down at her.

“Yeah?”

“Do you… do you want to try your hand at Call of Duty?”

She wonders if that’s what he really wanted to ask her. “If you promise not to laugh at how terrible I am,” she answers.

“I’m afraid I cannot make that promise, m’lady, but I will promise to give you as much help as I can,” he says.

“Okay then,” she says.

“Robert’s Rebellion or Blackwater Bay?” he asks, holding up two boxes.

“Ooh, tough choice,” she says. “Blackwater Bay, I think.”

xXx

Arya wakes with a start, confused. It’s dark, and she’s not sure where she is. She tries to sit up, but something tightens around her waist, preventing her from moving. Her hand moves to land on it, and when she feels warm, corded muscle beneath her palm, she remembers. Gendry. They must have fallen asleep on his couch, from what she can tell.

She wasn’t drunk last night, but the confusion and disorientation she is feeling make her feel like she was. She distinctly remembers cracking open the cap on the bottle of water she drank and he ate all the same things she ate, so she’s fairly certain she wasn’t drugged.

I _must have needed the break from study more than I realized._

He is cozy and warm behind her, his solid chest against her back, her legs tangled with his. She is still dressed and so is he, which is comforting. She tries to grab her phone on the table to check the time, but can’t reach it.

“Gendry,” she whispers. “ _Gendry_. We fell asleep.”

He grumbles behind her, but no actual words come out.

She sighs. It wouldn’t be so annoying if she wasn’t so damn comfortable cuddling with him on his deep couch. She looks around for a clock and doesn’t find any, so she tries to reach for her phone again. She manages to stretch just a little further, but still not enough to reach it.

“What’re you doing?” he mumbles into her hair.

“Trying to reach my phone. I want to know what time it is,” she answers.

“It’s too early,” he informs. His sleepy voice is a little deeper than his normal one and she finds she rather likes it.

She tries to reach for her phone again. “But—”

“Go back to sleep, Arya,” he murmurs, tugging her back against him.

When she feels his lips press the top of her head, she gives in and closes her eyes.

xXx

When Arya wakes again, she is lying facing Gendry, her nose to his chest.

He smells good. He’s also extraordinarily comfortable to sleep with.

The realization is a little unsettling, and she closes her eyes again for a second before opening them to peer up at him.

He’s staring down at her, his eyes unreasonably blue in the morning light. “Morning,” he says.

“How did we end up here?” she asks. “I feel like I’ve been drugged,” she groans, attempting to sit up.

He doesn’t let her. “I promise I definitely did not drug you, but I’ve never seen someone sleep so deeply in my life,” he says.

“Too much studying,” she sighs. “And I know you didn’t drug me. I figured that out when I woke up before.”

“Good. What did I say to you then?” he asks.

“Are you going to let me up?” she asks.

“I’m comfortable,” he answers, but relents a moment later, lifting his top arm so she can move.

She does, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. Because now she’s cold. “Remind me what happened last night and _then_ I’ll tell you what you said.”

“We were playing COD—”

“I remember that.”

“You actually weren’t half bad for it being your first time,” he comments, sitting up now too. “Anyway, when I turned the game off and switch the TV back, some dreadful movie about ice zombies was on and you insisted I needed to watch it.”

“Oh yeah. _White Walkers_. Great film.”

“It is shite and you know it.”

Arya snorts a laugh. “That’s why it’s great! It’s so bad that it works its way around to being good again.”

“If you say so. It wasn’t good enough to keep you awake though,” he tells her. “After about ten minutes, I felt you lean on me. I looked down and you were asleep on my shoulder.” He looks at his hands, clasped between his knees, thinking about how he felt a little giddy when he first felt her lean against him, thinking she was giving him a signal. And then, when he saw she was sleeping, how absolutely cute and sweet she looked.

“But how did we end up… horizontal?” she asks.

He looks up at her, deciding to be frank. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re extremely… cuddly… when you sleep?”

“Shit,” she whispers. “That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“Oh?”

“I used to do that to my brother Jon. He’s my favorite brother. I’d fall asleep trying to stay up late with him and he said I’d cling to him like a baby chimp. But no one has mentioned my doing that in ages.” _Why only with Jon and Gendry?_

He chuckles at the image, then furrows his brow and asks, “Not with any past boyfriend or lover?”

“No. And don’t use that term,” she says, making a face.

“Which one? Boyfriend?” he asks.

“No.”

“Lover?”

“Yuck.”

He laughs. “That’s a first.”

“It’s the context. If you say, ‘I’m a dog lover,’ that’s fine. But if you’re like, ‘I’d like you to meet my lover,’ it’s just… ick,” she explains, and he just laughs more. “It’s like how some people don’t like the word ‘moist.’ It’s just… blech.”

“I dated a girl who didn’t like the word ‘panties,’” he says.

“Not a favorite of mine, but it’s okay,” she replies.

“My lover has moist panties,” Gendry declares like he’s making an official proclamation.

“Okay, gross,” Arya says, but she is laughing. “Oh, you just asked me what I was doing and told me to go back to sleep,” she says.

“Huh?”

“You wanted to know what you said to me when I woke up earlier. Were you not awake?”

“Barely,” he answers.

“I think you might have kissed the top of my head, too,” she quietly says.

“Possible,” he replies with a shrug, like it was no big deal. But he definitely remembers doing that. He’s a little surprised she felt it and a lot surprised she mentioned it.

Arya stands and stretches, an action that Gendry finds to be a very entertaining and distracting display. “I need to go home,” she sighs. “My phone battery is probably dead and I need a shower.” She runs her hand through her hair, finds her slippers on the floor where she likely kicked them off, and heads to the door.

He follows her there, intent on seeing her out. “Arya, I…”

She surprises him by lifting up on her toes and kissing his cheek. “I had good time. Thanks for inviting me up.”

“Anytime,” he says, and hopes she can tell he sincerely means it. 

xXx

Arya hurries back down the stairs to her apartment. The first thing she does is plug in her dead phone. _Knowing Sansa, I probably have at least three text messages from her._

She gives it a minute, then turns her phone on. The notifications start a minute later.

_S: Hey, are you back home?_

_S: Oh my gods are you still at his? Are you being safe?_

_S: Okay I’m starting to get worried._

_S: ARYA. WHERE ARE YOU?_

Arya is about to send a text, but decides to call instead.

“Arya!” Sansa yells. “What the fuck happened to you?”

“I fell asleep on his couch,” she answers. “And my phone wasn’t plugged in, so it died.”

“Oh gods I was worried. I’m glad you’re okay,” Sansa says. “And you need a new phone. Your battery drains far too quickly.”

“I know, I know. My priorities are elsewhere right now, okay?” Arya says.

“So what happened with Mr. Crazy Hot?”

“His name is Gendry. We just ate food and played Call of Duty. Then we found a movie on TV and I fell asleep. He didn’t wake me up and tell me to leave, so I just now got home. That’s it,” Arya answers.

“Boring story. More details,” Sansa prods.

“Wait, it’s too quiet over there. Is Violet sleeping? Where is Pod?” Arya asks.

“Violet is napping, and Pod went to get us fancy coffees. Don’t change the subject.”

“He’s actually… really nice. Sweet.”

“You like him,” Sansa declares.

“Maybe,” Arya replies. “Okay, yes, I do.”

“Spill, then.”

“Fine. I’ll have you know I haven’t showered yet and I’m still wearing the clothes you last saw me in. But since you insist…”

xXx

Gendry stands with one hand flat on the closed door, the other touching his cheek, for far longer than would be considered reasonable or dignified.

He sighs, the words he had planned on saying, the words she had stolen from his lips, ringing through his head.

_Arya, I really like you. Do you think I could take you out sometime?_

But the surprise of her leaning up and kissing his cheek literally stunned him. He was fairly certain she liked him as a friend, but now… now he doesn’t know what to think.

It could have been just a friendly peck. But it could have been a hint. An unlocked door, metaphorically speaking.

_Shower. Go take a damn shower and clear your head._

He slides his hand down the wood of the door and walks towards the bathroom, sighing again as he fully accepts how deeply smitten he has become.

However, the only thing he gets a grip on in the shower is his cock, as he strokes himself to completion under the hot spray of shower, his forehead against the cool tile, his mind swimming with images of Arya from the night before.

When he finally emerges from the shower he is starving. He grabs his phone and makes for the kitchen. His phone buzzes before he can even crack an egg.

xXx

Arya gnaws on her bottom lip, staring at her phone. Sansa asked a question that hadn’t even occurred to her, and now she’s wondering how to ask Gendry.

She decides to go for direct.

_A: Why did you stay on the couch with me?_

His reply comes sooner than she expects, and it makes her laugh.

_G: Baby chimp._

_A: Oh, right._

That makes _some_ sense, but he could have carried her to… his bed. Oh. _How do I ask that question?_

Thankfully, he answers it before she can ask.

_G: I guess I figured if I carried you to my bed, it would seem a little... rapey? I didn’t want you to think ill of me._

Arya melts a little bit at his surprising softness. He’s much softer than his appearance would suggest, just like she’s much harder than hers would.

_A: I was confused enough when I woke up, so I guess thank you?_

_G: You’re welcome._

Then, throwing caution to the wind, and before she can think better of it, she sends one last text before dashing off into the shower to hide.

_A: You’re extremely comfortable BTW_


	3. Chapter 3

Three more weeks pass, and Arya and Gendry don’t see much of one another. They exchange some texts, some of them standard apologies from Gendry about the noise, which has significantly decreased.

Others are more personal. He asks about her progress on her paper. She asks about the furniture he is building. He sends her photos of some of his projects.

There is also a fair amount of flirting on both sides, but neither seem able to fully pull the trigger.

Gendry told himself he is waiting until she finishes her paper so he won’t be a distraction.

Arya told herself much the same. She was having a hard enough time keeping her focus on her dissertation and did not need to worry about some guy giving her grief for ignoring him in favor of her work.

Even though she knows, deep down, Gendry would never behave that way. Soft thing that he is, he would bring her bottles of water to make sure she was staying hydrated while she works and make sure she was taking breaks to eat and rub her tired shoulders after she spent all day hunched in front of her computer.

 _Sounds pretty good actually_ , Arya has to admit.

Then, on a Friday evening three weeks after their impromptu sleepover, Gendry gets a surprising text from Arya. He’s not surprised that she texted, but the content makes him raise his eyebrows.

_A: Can I borrow a bottle of beer?_

He’s been wanting to see her place for weeks now, so he takes his opportunity.

_G: Of course. I’ll bring it down. Do you prefer cold or room temp?_

_A: Room temp please. I’m not drinking it, I’m cooking with it._

Now he’s really intrigued. He grabs a bottle from the box in the pantry cupboard and heads out.

A few minutes later, he knocks on the door to apartment 2C. She opens it almost immediately, and he is greeted with the sight of Arya with her hair up in two buns and wearing a black apron with the words _Once you put my meat in your mouth, you’re going to want to swallow_ emblazoned on it in white writing.

“Nice apron,” he greets with a laugh.

She looks down and giggles. “It was Jon’s. I stole it because I think it’s funnier if I wear it,” she says. “Plus, he should not be involved with food preparation. Come in.”

He steps inside and hands her the bottle of beer. “It smells really good in here,” he says.

“Thank you,” she says, taking the bottle. “Making chili.” She nods towards the kitchen and he follows, taking a second to appraise her living room as he goes.

He likes her taste in furniture. It’s simple and elegant, not fussy at all. “Nice bookcase,” he assesses, noting the large piece against one wall.

“Thanks. I got it at an antique sale. It weighs a fuck-ton,” she says.

He leans against the counter and watches as she dumps various items into a pot that smells like it has beef and onions in it. “You’re not working on your dissertation tonight?” he asks.

She turns and beams at him. “Oh! I forgot to tell you: I finished it! Turned it in Wednesday!” she exclaims.

“Congratulations!” he replies. Her excitement is infectious, and he pulls her into a hug without even thinking about it.

She feels so good in his arms that he holds on a little longer than he probably should have.

He doesn’t notice that she holds on just as long.

When he loosens his arms and she steps back, her cheeks are flushed. “Thanks,” she says, her voice almost a whisper.

“You should be celebrating,” he says.

“I am celebrating,” she counters. “I’m making chili.”

“Wild girl.”

“Says the man who spends his Saturday nights in his apartment with four other men playing video games.”

“What? That’s a perfectly reasonable way to spend an evening,” he protests, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Do you ever go out?” she asks, and he notices her eyes lingering on his forearms for a moment before she quickly returns to her cooking.

“Um… rarely,” he admits. “Not really my scene, if I’m honest.”

“Me neither,” she agrees.

“When will you find out if you, you know, passed, or whatever?” he asks. “Are you going to make me call you Doctor… Doctor what? I don’t know your last name…”

“It’s Stark, Mr. Waters,” she tells him with a smirk. “Mailboxes? You ever look at them?”

“Oh,” he replies with a laugh. “Yeah. I guess I’m not lucky enough to have you stalking me.”

She raises an eyebrow, then says, “Actually, I made it a point to look for your name in case I needed to lodge an official noise complaint.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. I’m still really sorry about that,” he apologizes, running his hand through his hair.

“I know. And I’ll find out about my dissertation when I go in to defend it next week,” she explains. “It’s not an argument,” she adds, seeing his confusion. “More of a discussion. Then they’ll either give me the good word or I’ll have to try again.”

“You’ll kill it,” he definitively says. “I’ve no doubt.”

She stops, turns to look fully at him, and gives him the best smile he’s ever seen. “Thank you, Gendry,” she says.

They regard one another for a few heavy moments. All Gendry can think of is kissing her. When Arya lightly bites the corner of her lower lip, he almost caves and pulls her to him, but then she blinks a couple of times, clears her throat, and picks up a can of kidney beans.

“I should probably go back up,” he says. “I don’t want to keep you from your dinner.”

“Um, okay. I’m not going to eat this tonight though. Chili is always better the next day,” she says.

“Oh,” Gendry dumbly says. “But yeah, you’re right.” He doesn’t really want to leave, but he’s not exactly sure if he’ll be able to continue being a gentleman if he stays there much longer. She is just far too attractive for her own good tonight, and he feels like he’s slowly going insane. He pushes himself off of his leaning place. She wipes her hands on her apron and follows him to the door.

“Thanks again for the beer,” she says. “I’ll find a way to repay you sometime.”

“Not necessary,” he assures her. “But I’ll know who to call if I ever need a cup of sugar or an egg.”

She chuckles a little, looking down, then up again, and he is struck by her silver-gray eyes once more. “Of course,” she says.

“Have a good night. And congratulations again on finishing your work,” he says. Then he leaves before the thoughts of pressing her against the door and wrapping her legs around his waist (or head) can fully form.

xXx

Arya leans against the closed door, eyes closed, castigating herself for not kissing him when she had the chance. She wanted to kiss him. She was pretty sure he wanted to kiss her, judging by the way his eyes went more black than blue when he saw her bite her lip.

She’s never been shy about making the first move before, but for some reason she wants him to do it. Yes, she kissed his cheek, but it’s not like she stuck her tongue down his throat.

She sighs and walks back to the kitchen, pouring the last of the ingredients into the pot. The chili nearly reaches the top of the large pot, and as she stirs it and puts the lid on to simmer, an idea comes to her. 

xXx

The next night, Gendry is just sitting down to kick some ass in GTA: King’s Landing when he gets another text from Arya.

“Aw, come on, we’ve been quiet!” Thoros protests beside him, seeing the name on Gendry’s screen.

_A: You lot fancy some chili?_

“It’s not that,” Gendry says, angling his phone away from him while he texts his reply.

_G: Are you sure? Do you have enough? There are 5 of us up here you know._

“What is it then?” Anguy asks. “Booty call? You finally giving it to her?”

_A: It is not possible to make a small pot of chili._

_G: You know you’re not going to have any left if you bring it up here._

“Don’t be crass,” Gendry snaps.

“Sorry, mate, I don’t know any other way to be,” he answers.

_A: That’s the idea. I already took out what I want for later._

_G: If you’re sure._

_A: I’ll be up in a minute._

“She actually wants to know if we are hungry. She made a big pot of chili yesterday and wants to share it with us, gods know why,” Gendry explains.

“Chili?” Hot Pie asks, eyes lighting up. The others make noises of agreeable interest as well.

Gendry goes to the door and opens it, figuring she’ll have her hands full. He lingers in the doorway, waiting for her.

“Isn’t she still working on that paper thing?” Lommy asks.

“She finished it,” Gendry answers. “Told me she turned it in on Wednesday.”

“Oh really? When did she tell you this?” Thoros asks, leaning forward and resting his chin on his raised fist.

“Yesterday. She needed to borrow a bottle of beer for her chili and I brought it down to her,” Gendry answers, smiling when he sees her coming down the hall.

“Beer? In chili? Now I am intrigued,” Anguy comments.

“Yeah. I think I saw her putting coffee in it too,” Gendry absently comments. “Hey,” he greets Arya as she approaches, laden with a crock pot. She also has a canvas bag over her arm, so he takes the pot from her and carries it to the kitchen.

“Thank you,” she says, following.

 _Gods, she looks cute_ , he observes. He’s grown accustomed to the blue fuzzy slippers, but the yoga pants nearly end him. Especially the back view.

“What’s in the bag?” he asks as she sets it on the counter.

“Cornbread. Can’t have chili without cornbread,” she answers.

“Cornbread, you say?” Hot Pie asks, appearing with surprising stealth for a man of his girth. “Sweet or savory?”

“Sweet,” Arya answers as though it should be obvious. “To bal—”

“Balance the chili, yeah,” Hot Pie agrees. “Do you have cheese?”

She pulls a bag of shredded cheddar out. “Do I look like a bloody amateur?” she asks.

“Nice,” he replies with a grin, extending his hand. “I’m Hot Pie,” he says, introducing himself.

“Arya,” she says, shaking his hand.

“Hot Pie is a chef,” Gendry says.

“Almost,” Hot Pie corrects.

“Oh shit, now I’m nervous,” Arya says, eyes widening.

“Well, if it tastes as good as it smells, you have nothing to worry about,” Hot Pie says, leaning over the crock pot to smell.

The others have crowded into the kitchen by now as well, and introductions are hastily made before bowls are brought out and filled.

xXx

“You like her?” Thoros’ voice is quiet as he corners Gendry in the kitchen. Gendry had gone to get himself and Arya another beer, and Thoros grabbed his empty bowl and followed, saying he was getting seconds.

“Why? Are you interested in her?” Gendry counters, sounding a bit more defensive than he wants.

“No, no… it’s just I think she likes you too, mate,” Thoros says. “I’ve been watching her. Not like _that_ ,” he clarifies. “But she can’t keep her eyes off of you.”

“Really?”

Thoros nods. “She spent the fuckin’ night with you on your couch a week after coming up here to yell at us for being too loud. You’ve been texting back and forth with her when we’re not even _here_. And she brought us this amazing chili _for no reason at all_. She was looking for an excuse to see you, mate.”

Gendry forgot that he had told Thoros about their accidental sleepover. In fact, they all know except for Anguy, who cannot be trusted with that sort of information. “Yeah, maybe,” he allows, pulling the beers from the fridge.

“All I’m saying is now that her schoolwork is done, you don’t have any excuse to not shoot your shot,” Thoros says. He turns and scoops another helping of chili into his bowl just as Lommy comes in with his.

“Yeah, she really likes you. She’s cute, too,” Lommy adds, having heard what Thoros just said. “Hey, don’t take all the cheese!”

“You brewing that beer in there or what?” Arya’s voice calls from the living room.

Gendry quickly exits the kitchen, ignoring his smirking friends. “Sorry,” he says, handing her the bottle. “Thoros can get chatty.”

“Completely my fault,” Thoros confirms as he sits. “This is top-notch fare, milady,” he adds, raising his bowl in salute.

xXx

The guys insisted Arya stay and play with them, since she finished her dissertation and had no real excuse to leave.

Lommy even washed her crock pot for her after they emptied it and declared her chili “fucking brilliant.” Hot Pie demanded both the chili and cornbread recipes, and she promised she would share them with him.

They even relented and played Mario Kart after she mentioned that was the only game she was any good at.

Then they all left suspiciously early. Gendry pretended not to notice Thoros trying to be subtle about leaving Arya and Gendry alone, but he was secretly thankful to him.

Arya pretended not to notice, too. Until they were gone.

“Your friends aren’t very subtle,” she says.

Gendry plops down beside her on the couch. “Hmm?”

“Don’t play stupid,” she says, leaning sideways to nudge him with her shoulder. “I know you saw Thoros gesturing and making faces at the others, because I certainly did. He practically had to drag Anguy out the door.”

“Okay, yeah, I did.”

After a beat, Arya decides to try throwing him another bone. “Thoughtful of him.”

He looks at her, eyes wide. She slowly turns her head and looks up at him, her eyes asking a question.

Then she arches an eyebrow at him, and he breaks.

“I really like you,” he blurts, then immediately cringes. “Gods, I sound like I’m 12.”

“I really like you too,” she replies.

“You do?”

“Are you daft? Have you missed all the hints I’ve been throwing your way for the past month?”

He laughs, his head dropping forward. “Yeah, I’m an idiot,” he says, shaking his head. Then, he turns his still-bowed head and looks at her.

She pulls her lower lip into her mouth and slowly releases it, plump and shining, leaving her lips slightly parted. _Come on, Gendry…_

As if he heard her thought, he leans over and catches that lower lip between his, sucking on it for just a second before fully claiming her lips with his.

She somehow melts into him and presses against him at the same time, her small hands fisting the front of his shirt as she leans up to meet him. He brings one hand up to her cheek and the other snakes around her waist, bringing her closer. 

He pulls away just long enough to growl a curse word and shift them, tugging her by the thighs to position her beneath him on the couch. When he descends on her again, comfortably settled between her parted knees, he’s open-mouthed and hungry. She is ready for him, eagerly meeting him.

Arya makes a small noise in the back of her throat as she takes his ardor and returns her own, one leg winding around his. One hand slides into his hair and her fingers curl into the silken black strands, drawing a groan from him.

“Seven hells, you’re a really good kisser,” he mutters, only leaving her lips long enough to speak. He dives back in, kissing her laughing lips, not even caring that she’s laughing at him.

She arches underneath him, his lips and tongue and hands and hips all working in a sinful concert to render her completely stupid and needy.

“Fuck, so are you,” she gasps, tilting her head back so she can talk. He moves to kiss her jaw and then down her neck. “Oh, right there,” she says, her voice still breathy, when he finds a particularly sensitive spot on the side of her neck.

She feels warm skin under her palm, but doesn’t remember slipping her hand under his shirt. She can also feel the hard length of him pressing into her center, and her hips unconsciously flex upward in response.

“Arya.” His voice is a hoarse whisper on her skin, and he raises his head from the curve of her neck to lean his forehead against hers. “I… I don’t want to go too far just yet.”

She can tell by his voice and his closed eyes that he is at war with himself over what he just said. Still, she can’t help but ask, “You don’t?”

His eyes open and he lifts his head so she can see him clearly. “I mean I _do_ , but just… not yet. I _really like you_ , Arya,” he repeats, as if that will explain everything. “I can’t have this just be a one-time fling.”

She smiles up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes. I understand. I feel the same way,” she explains, then lifts a hand to his face, her fingers caressing his cheek. He leans into her touch and she traces his lower lip with her thumb, which he then kisses. “A little frustrating, if I am honest, but you’re right.”

“Good. And yeah, it is frustrating as fuck, I know,” he replies, leaning down to kiss her lips once, then he shifts them again so they are spooned on the couch, much like they were the morning they woke up together. “I… I was the product of a careless indiscretion. A one-time fling,” he hesitantly says.

“So you’re extra careful as a result,” she guesses. She feels him nod behind her, and says, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

“I want to,” he replies, his arm tightening around her for a second in an affectionate squeeze. “Like I said, I know who my father is now, but I didn’t know until I turned 18. But my whole childhood, all I knew was that I was a mistake.”

“Gendry—”

“No, it’s true. Even though my mum never made me feel like that, I still knew. My mum was the absolute best. I know she loved me. She may not have planned on getting pregnant, but she promised me that she always wanted me, even though it can’t have been easy for her.”

“Which only made it more difficult when she died,” Arya guesses.

“Yeah. My biological father has other kids, too. A bunch of them. All over Westeros,” Gendry says.

“Gross,” she comments.

“Too right. It was my mum’s wish that I not know who he was until I was 18, and even then, it was my choice. I only wanted to know so I could find out if there were any health issues of which I should be aware. You know, genetically.”

“Right,” she replies, her inquisitive mind filling with questions that she holds back because now is not the time.

“Luckily, all of his health issues are self-inflicted,” he says, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice. “He’s rich. He offered me money. I turned him down. I didn’t want him to think he could buy me off.”

“I understand that.”

He pauses. “Yeah, I think you actually do,” he decides. “I wasn’t interested in any kind of relationship with him, and if I took his money…”

“There would be that tie back to him,” she finishes, then turns around to face him. “This way you could just walk away.”

“Yep,” he declares, then leans down and kisses her forehead. “I’m not saying I couldn’t have used the money, but at least I know that what I have is mine.”

She smiles. _He’s proud, but for the right reasons._ “I suppose now is not the time to tell you that my family is stupid wealthy?” she asks, laughing.

“Not the best timing, no,” he replies, but his laughter joins hers. “So why do you live here then? You could be living somewhere a lot more posh than this.”

“Because I want the things I have to be mine, too,” she answers, tucking herself against him. “Mmm, you _are_ extremely comfortable,” she sighs, reiterating her careless text from weeks ago.

“We would be more comfortable in my bed, you know,” he says.

She leans back and looks up at him, puzzled. “What happened to not going too far just yet?”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Did I say anything about sex? I said ‘bed.’ For sleeping. Because it’s late, I’m getting tired, and I slept quite well with you snuggled up next to me last time.”

“Oh, am I sleeping over then?” she asks, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“I’d like you to,” he admits. “I mean, if you want to.”

“Yeah… I do,” Arya answers, tucking her head under his chin again. She briefly considers running downstairs to get a few things, or even suggesting he pack a bag and come down to hers, but for some unknowable reason, she really wants to stay here, in his place, with him. “I liked sleeping snuggled up next to you, too,” she says, then moves to kiss him again.

She intends it to just be a peck, but Gendry has other ideas, and another ten minutes pass before they actually leave the couch.

xXx

Arya slowly wakes the next morning, once again having slept extraordinarily well. She can feel Gendry’s arms wrapped around her from behind, securely holding her to his chest.

She sighs contentedly, closing her eyes again. His arms tighten around her, and she feels him kiss the back of her head.

“Morning,” he murmurs, wrapping his top leg around hers.

“Who’s the baby chimp now?” she asks, giggling as he continues trying to completely surround her with himself.

“Still you,” he says, stretching to kiss her neck. His hand slides down her side, and when he feels warm skin sooner than he expected, he gasps and his hand reflexively jerks away.

“I think the shirt rode up a bit,” she says. She had borrowed one of his t-shirts for sleeping, and she can tell the hem traveled from where it had originally landed at mid-thigh up to her waist while she slept. “You can touch; I don’t mind.”

His hand gingerly settles back on her hip. “It’s not you I’m worried about,” he admits, his voice a little hoarse.

“Hey, you were the one who wanted to wait,” she points out.

“I know,” he sighs, his rough fingers caressing her smooth skin. “Your skin is amazingly soft.”

“Thank you,” she replies, noticing he has shifted his hips backward a bit. She thinks about pressing hers back, following him, but decides that would be too cruel. Instead she turns around to face him.

“Hi,” he says, leaning down to kiss her lips. “Sleep well?”

“Mmm, very well,” she answers. “You?”

“I slept great,” he replies, then kisses her once more. He starts leaning further into her, deepening the kiss, and she pulls away.

“I have morning breath,” she says.

“I don’t care,” he counters, then catches her lips again. “You are addictive,” he murmurs between kisses, his hand slipping up under her shirt and gripping her waist.

“Don’t start something you’re not going to finish,” she warns when he starts kissing down her neck. His hand under her shirt hasn’t been still either, and she feel his thumb brush against the bottom of her breast.

“Oh, I’ll finish,” he murmurs, “just not right now.” He lifts his head from her neck, gives her a soft, sweet, kiss, and slowly slides his hand out from under her shirt. “But you’re right. I shouldn’t be a tease.”

Inexplicably, Gendry referring to himself as a “tease” makes Arya laugh. “As long as you make it worth my while when it happens, I’m not going to complain. Much.”

He leans his forehead against hers and says, “Oh, I’ll definitely make it worth your while.”

His low, rough tone and confident delivery make Arya swallow hard, and somehow she knows these aren’t just empty words.


	4. Chapter 4

Monday came too soon, and with it, work for Gendry and school for Arya. They don’t get to see as much of one another as they’d like, but their text exchanges increase in frequency yet again, and the content is decidedly more familiar and fun.

Gendry can’t check his phone as much as he’d like while he works, but on his breaks, he often finds several messages from Arya that always bring a smile to his face.

Arya can’t check her phone while she’s in class, but absolutely lives for the photos Gendry sends of the things he is crafting.

They were able to meet for dinner (and a searing makeout session involving Gendry’s hands well and truly active under Arya’s shirt) Monday night, but she is still fretting over having to defend her dissertation and has been spending a lot of her time preparing herself for that. He has thought about offering to help, but realized he would have absolutely no idea how. Instead, he takes the time alone to work on the rest of his bedroom furniture, his motivation to complete it renewed by her interest in it.

Gendry starts feeling lonely around Wednesday night. He had stayed at work late again, but now he is home with nothing to do, and hopes Arya is available too. He thinks about just going downstairs, but decides to text her first, in case she’s still studying.

_G: What are you doing?_

_A: Taking a bubble bath._

Gendry stares at his phone for a second, mental images flooding his brain.

_G: Really?_

About a minute passes before she replies. With a photo. He thinks his heart has stopped, but he pokes the screen, bringing up the image.

It’s Arya’s toes against one end of the bathtub, just sticking out above piles of bubbles.

_G: Are you trying to give me a heart attack?_

_G: Also, how is it allowable that your toes are just as adorable as the rest of you?_

_A: lol_

_A: I’m not adorable._

_G: Yes you bloody well are_

_A: Just for that…_

He finds himself waiting again, leg bouncing with nerves, wondering what this unpredictable bundle of _adorable_ with whom he is well and fully smitten is going to unleash upon him.

His phone finally lights up with another notification. It’s another photo.

“Oh, gods,” he whispers aloud as he brings it up on his screen.

It’s a proper selfie this time, with Arya looking beautifully flushed from the hot water. Her hair is up in a messy bun, tendrils hanging with their ends damp around her shoulders, which are bare and shining.

She’s giving him a saucy little wide-eyed look, and the bubbles around her only just conceal her breasts from view.

Gendry stares at the photo for what might be considered an embarrassingly long time, his jeans suddenly feeling too constricting. He exhales heavily.

He minimizes the photo, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, but he can’t remember what words are at the moment because most of the blood in his body is not in his brain.

_A: You there?_

_G: Yes, sorry, sorry! Yes, I’m here! I’m just… gods, Arya, you can’t do that to me._

_A: ;)_

_A: You brought this torture on yourself, you know._

_G: Oh, I know. Believe me, I know._

Gendry pulls the picture back up and looks at it again, wondering if it would be tacky or inappropriate to make it her contact photo. Appropriately cropped, of course.

He decides to ask her, taking a chance.

_A: Sure, why not lol_

xXx

“Gendry, you’ve got a visitor, lad,” Davos says, walking up to him early Friday afternoon. The older man looks a little perplexed, and rightly so. No one has ever come asking for Gendry before.

Gendry sets his tools aside and wipes his hands on a cloth. “Who is it?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Young lady. Tiny, but… intense,” Davos answers, walking with him to the front of the shop.

 _Arya._ Gendry simply smiles, wondering how she found his workplace. When he sees her, his smile widens.

Then she jumps him.

“I passed!” she yells, leaping into his arms and wrapping herself around him like the baby chimp she can be around him.

Luckily he is big and she is small, so he easily catches her, laughing with delight. He doesn’t even lose his footing.

“Congratulations,” he says, his arms tight around her. He kisses her temple and says, “I knew you’d kill it. Didn’t I say so?”

She leans her head back and kisses him soundly. “You did,” she says. “And I appreciate the confidence you had in me.” Then she seems to notice they aren’t alone, and her gaze shifts, looking at the man over Gendry’s shoulder. “Hi,” she says.

“Miss,” Davos greets with a nod.

Gendry eases Arya down out of his arms, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Arya, this is Davos Seaworth, my boss. Davos, this is _Doctor_ Arya Stark, my…” he pauses, glancing sideways at her, “girlfriend?”

“Works for me,” Arya agrees, extending her hand to Davos. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Very nice to meet you, too,” Davos returns, shaking her hand. “I had no idea our Gendry had a young lady.”

“It’s fairly new,” Gendry says, still unable to stop grinning.

Davos steps back and regards Arya for a moment. “Stark, you say? Are you one of Ned Stark’s brood? You must be; you look just like him.”

Arya laughs and says, “Yeah. Number four of six. How do you know my dad?”

Davos smiles. “Way back at University,” he says. “Had a few classes together. We weren’t close friends, but… amiable acquaintances. He’s a top bloke, your da.”

“That he is,” she replies with a smile. “Glad you think so, too. I’ll have to tell him I met you; see if he remembers you.”

The older man fishes a card out of one of the several pockets in his overalls. “Here, lass. If he feels like saying hello,” he says.

“He just might, thanks,” she says.

“Nice to meet you,” Davos concludes with a nod, “but that credenza isn’t going to stain itself.”

“Nice meeting you, too,” Arya replies. “He seems nice. I like him,” she tells Gendry once they are alone again.

Gendry laughs, pulling her into his arms again. “He’s really great. First solid father figure I’ve ever had, actually.”

“That’s wonderful, Gendry,” she replies, pressing her cheek against his chest. Then she turns her head and finds herself at eye-level with his neck. So she leans forward and kisses it, sucking lightly at the hollow under his Adam’s apple.

He groans, and she feels the vibrations against her tongue. His skin is warm and salty from his work, but she finds she doesn’t mind that he’s a little sweaty and dirty and smells like sawdust and metal.

“I’m at work,” he sighs, leaning away from her a little bit. “But I want to take you out tonight. To celebrate.”

Her eyebrow raises. “Out? Like, _out_ out? You, confirmed hermit Gendry Waters, is going to take me out somewhere?” she teases.

“Yes, I am, okay?” he huffs, but he is laughing. “Assuming you are available for dinner, of course.”

“Hmm, let me check my diary,” she says, reaching for an invisible book and pretending to page through it. “Let’s see… well, I can cancel _that_ , and move that _there_ , and… yeah, fuck that guy.” She looks up at his amused face and says, “It took some doing, but I managed to pencil you in.”

He sighs, shaking his head at her. “You are impossible,” he says, dropping his forehead against hers. “I’ll see if I can get us some reservations and let you know what time.” Then he softly kisses her before adding, “I should get back to work.”

“Okay,” she replies, gives him one last kiss, then pulls away. “See you later.”

“Yeah. Wait, Arya?” he asks, and she turns back. “You like Braavosi?”

She smiles. “Love it.”

“Good.”

xXx

Gendry knocks on Arya’s door at 6:30. He miraculously got them 6:45 reservations at a place nearby despite the fact that he called the same day.

She opens the door, and his jaw drops. He’s never seen her actually dressed up before, and he’s having trouble finding the words. She’s wearing a simple dark gray dress with a scoop neckline and three-quarter length sleeves. It flares at her hips and falls to her knees, where he can see her perfect little legs extending down to a pair of fashionable black booties. And her hair is down. He’s never seen her hair down before. It is a rich chestnut color (he mentally recalls which color wood stain would match it) and flows in soft waves just past her shoulders. She’s even wearing light makeup, highlighting her large eyes and plump lips.

“You look… amazing,” he breathes, still stupidly staring at her.

She smiles. “Thanks,” she says, stepping aside to let him step in while she grabs her coat. “You look pretty amazing too,” she returns.

And he does. He’s wearing a simple blue button-down shirt that just enhances how unbelievably blue his eyes are with black trousers that fit him _very_ well. He’s got on black shoes or boots that have a satiny sheen to them, and his hair is tidier than she’s ever seen it.

She almost wants to go and tousle it a bit.

“Okay,” she says, grabbing a small purse. “Let’s go.”

As they walk down, Gendry remembers her footwear. “Hey, are those shoes comfortable? I thought we could walk there, since it’s only a couple blocks.”

“That’s why I wore these and not the fancier ones,” she answers. “These are quite comfortable.”

“Good,” he replies with a nod. “Of course if they weren’t, I could just carry you because you only weigh like six pounds.”

She snorts. “Yes, that wouldn’t look weird at all.”

They head outside into the early spring night, and Arya is momentarily struck by one of the major differences between King’s Landing and Winterfell. This time of year in Winterfell, it would still be pretty cold and there would probably still be snow on the ground. Here in King’s Landing, it feels very much like spring already. Some trees and shrubs are already starting to bud, and the small patches of grass here and there are already green. She has even spied some blooming crocuses.

Before she realizes she’s doing it, she finds herself telling Gendry all this. When she pauses and looks up at him, she is pleasantly surprised to find him listening attentively.

“What?” he asks, opening the door to the restaurant for her.

“You actually seemed to be interested in my ramblings, that’s all,” she says.

He gives his name to the host, and when they are seated, he replies.

“Of course I’m interested in your ramblings,” he says, not even opening his menu yet.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, aiming her eyes at her menu to hide a little. “It’s just that other guys I’ve dated tend to… tune me out when I start prattling on about things. Especially when I talk about home.”

“Well then they were stupid and didn’t deserve to hear about those things anyway,” he declares, finally deciding to look at the menu. “Honestly though, you could read me this menu and I’d happily listen to you.”

She looks up at him and raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Overstating things a bit, aren’t you?” she asks.

He meets her gaze and she can see he is quite serious. “Am I? I don’t think I am.”

“We’ll see how long you can pay attention when I really get going on ancient weaponry and battle tactics,” she challenges with a small chuckle.

“You seem to forget that I fucking _love_ ancient weaponry,” he reminds her.

“Oh shit, that’s right, you do,” she replies, laughing fully now.

The waitress comes and takes their drink orders, promising to return shortly.

“I’ve always liked history, too,” he tells her. “I could probably bore you with blacksmithing techniques and how they have evolved over time.”

“If by ‘bore’ you mean ‘fascinate,’ then yes,” she says. “I would honestly love to hear about that, and kind of wish I had met you months ago so I could have incorporated it into my dissertation.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “Would I have gotten to be in your bibliography then?”

“Yep,” she answers with a nod.

“Damn,” he curses. “Why didn’t I move sooner?”

She laughs, then asks, “Where did you move from?”

“Just up in Flea Bottom. Saved up enough and am making enough money now so I could upgrade my location,” he says. “I grew up there though.” Then he remembers she’s not from King’s Landing and has no idea how well she knows the areas of the very large city. “It’s… not a great neighborhood.”

“I know where Flea Bottom is,” she says. “It’s not as bad as a lot of people like to say.”

“I feel like you’re being kind, and that’s not really necessary. Everyone knows it’s kind of a slum,” he says.

“I was being sincere, and being poor doesn’t make you a bad person or less important than anyone else. In fact, the opposite is often true. Look at the Lannisters. They’re ridiculously wealthy and most of them are terrible people,” Arya replies.

“The Baratheons too,” Gendry supplies as another example.

“My point exactly,” she agrees, just as the waitress returns.

After they order, Gendry reaches across the table and lightly places his hand over Arya’s, his fingertips lightly stroking the back of her hand.

“So, what does one do with a doctorate in Westerosi History?” he asks.

“Well, I’m actually fortunate. Dr. Forel, my advisor, has a contact at the History Museum of Westeros, and I’ll be interviewing for a position there,” she answers. “I could try for a teaching job at… oh, any university, really, but I don’t want to do that.”

“That’s pretty cool,” he says. “And that’s here in King’s Landing, too,” he adds with a smile, realizing that means she won’t be going anywhere any time soon. Provided she gets the job.

“It is,” she says. “Dr. Forel seems to think that as long as I don’t, like, shit myself during the interview, I’ll get the job. I think he knows more than he’s telling me.”

Gendry laughs. “Oh, I have every confidence in you,” he says.

Arya smiles, remembering how he was completely certain she’d pass today, and she did. “Yeah, I know you do,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “Now,” she definitively says, leaning back in her chair with a challenging smirk on her face, “dazzle me with your blacksmithing lore.”

xXx

Bellies full of delicious Braavosi food (they had even split a dessert), their walk is slower than it was earlier. They tell themselves that they don’t have reservations to keep so they can take their time, but they really know it’s because they’re both trying to stave off a food coma.

They stop and look in closed storefronts, laughing at some of the more absurd fashions on display. They spot a cat and try to follow it, but it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared.

“I spent a summer trying to catch cats,” Arya tells Gendry.

“Are cats a problem in Winterfell?” he asks.

“No. If they were, I would have caught more,” she answers with a laugh.

He lifts their joined hands to his smiling lips and kisses her knuckles. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why were you trying to catch cats?”

“I was trying to teach myself how to be stealthy and quick,” she answers with a shrug. “Seemed like a good tactic to my 11-year-old brain.”

“I thought you were maybe looking for a pet,” he says. They reach the doors to their building, and he pulls one open for her.

“Nah, we had dogs. Big ones,” she answers. “If I came home with a cat, my mum would have had a fit. And the dogs might have eaten it.”

“What kind of dogs did you have?” he asks, looking slightly horrified.

“Um, direwolves?” she answers, knowing that the wolf-dog hybrids are rare to the point of almost being considered mythical, especially outside of Winterfell.

“You had bloody _direwolves_?” he asks.

“We had six of them,” she answers with a laugh. “We each had our own.”

“Crazy rich people shit,” he mutters, and she punches him on the arm. He just laughs.

As they ascend the stairs, Gendry leans in and murmurs into her ear, “Should we go to yours or mine?”

Arya shivers slightly. Something in his tone tells her that their celebration is not over yet. “Let’s stop at mine and I’ll grab my bag. Then we’ll go to yours.”

He pauses on the landing. “We could just stay at your place.”

She bites her lower lip and looks down for a second. She lifts her gaze to him again and admits, “I like your flat. I can’t explain why, but… I just like being there.” She pauses and says, “And I already packed a bag. For the weekend.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, she’s afraid she has overstepped, but then he gives her a brief, fierce kiss, and says, “You are brilliant, Dr. Stark.” Then he takes her hand and leads her through the door to the second floor of their building.

They are in Arya’s apartment for less than a minute. She was serious when she said she had packed a bag. They went in, Arya strode to her bedroom, grabbed the small duffle, and strode back out to a slightly baffled Gendry, who was looking at some framed photos in her living room.

“Okay, let’s go,” she says, grabbing his hand.

“But I was—”

“Looking at my photos, yes,” she interjects. “That’s just my family. Nothing interesting.”

He chuckles as they make their way up to his place. “It’s interesting if you don’t have a family,” he says, but his tone is still light.

Arya immediately regrets her words anyway. “Oh, shit, Gendry, I’m so sorry! I didn’t think… sometimes the words come out before the brain can stop—”

This time he silences her words, with a gentle finger on her lips. “It’s all right, love. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.” He moves his hand to cup her cheek, his thumb lightly caressing her bottom lip. “But I would like to hear about your rather impressively large family sometime.” She lightly nips his thumb, and he swallows hard. “Perhaps not tonight though.”

She laughs then, and he turns to quickly unlock the door, key briefly fumbling to find the lock. The door is closed and locked as quickly as it is opened, and Arya finds herself pressed against the back of it immediately after.

His lips are hot and urgent, claiming hers like he is a man starving for her. And he is, his mouth devouring hers as his hands blaze trails on her body that feel like they are burning through her clothes.

She gives back just as much, pressing up into his embrace, on her toes, trying to lift herself higher, nearly climbing him in the process.

“Fuck,” he curses, then hoists her up under her thighs, lifting and bracing her against the door. She wraps her legs around his waist and her fingers weave through his hair. She pulls a handful of it and he growls, his fingers digging into her ass under the skirt of her dress.

“Are we doing this here?” she asks when his lips trail down her neck.

“Hmm?” He lifts his head and looks at her, eyes dazed and dark. “Oh. Right. We’re still out here.” He kisses her lips once, then pulls them both away from the door and carries her back to his bedroom.

There is no hovering in the doorway this time.

He strides across the threshold, her lips on his neck now. He tries to drop her on the bed, but she clings tightly.

“Baby chimp,” she declares.

“Well if this baby chimp wants either one of us to get naked, she’s gonna have to let go,” he says.

“So we’re really doing this?” Arya asks, easing her hold on him to slide back down to her feet. She takes a step back to give him some space. “You’re sure you’re ready?”

Gendry steps into the space she just gave him, crowding her. He reaches up and gently cups her face in his hands. “I’m _very_ sure,” he answers, his voice low.

She swallows. That low tone of his voice seems to speak straight to her core. “I’m… safe. And I’m on birth control,” she says, her eyes closing as his hands lightly trail down from her cheeks to her neck, then down over her breasts and stomach before stopping at her hips.

“Me too,” he answers. “Except the birth control part,” he absently, awkwardly adds with a wince that makes her giggle.

She sits on the bed, looking up at him, leaning back on her hands. She lifts her foot up and places it on his thigh.

He takes the hint and lifts her foot in his hand, inspecting her boot to see if there is a zipper or something to help remove it.

“Just pull,” she says, and he does, setting the boot aside before removing the other one. He keeps this foot in one hand, the other sliding up her smooth leg.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing a line on the skin just above her knee on her inner thigh.

“Take your shirt off,” she says, a small smile on her face.

He drops her foot and his hands are immediately at his buttons, hastily unbuttoning them. He considers just ripping the shirt open, but he doesn’t have very many dress shirts, and this one is his favorite.

“Seven hells,” she whispers at the sight of his chest bared to her. She had seen it Saturday night when she slept over, but hadn’t really gotten a _good_ look at it. She leans forward and lets her fingers do some exploring, tracing the lines and ridges of his chest and abdomen.

She can feel how fast and hard his heart is beating when she places her hand flat on his chest, and it makes hers speed up as well.

Then she drags her fingers down to his belt and begins unbuckling it.

“Wait,” he says. “Shoes.” He quickly bends down and yanks his own boots from his feet, tossing them with much less care than he did hers. “Okay,” he declares, now helping her to open his belt and trousers. In seconds they are on the floor with his shirt, and he’s standing before her in his boxer briefs.

It’s a good view. She bites her lower lip and leans back on her elbows, hoping to entice him down over her.

He does, prowling over her small form on her bed until he can reach her lips again. He kisses her hungrily, leaving one hand to dally at the hem of her dress. It eventually works its way under her skirt and moves higher, his rough palm on her smooth thigh.

When he reaches the top, he slides it inward until he can feel the heat of her. His fingers lightly touch her center, and she sighs. He presses more firmly, and she moans.

“My lover has moist panties,” he murmurs into her ear, close enough that his lips brush against it.

“Gods, shut _up_ ,” she says, huffing a laugh that is abruptly cut off when his fingers slip beneath the fabric of her knickers to briefly slide in between her folds. She groans and arches under his hand.

His chuckle is both infuriating and intoxicating, and she suddenly pushes him away.

“This dress needs to come _off_ ,” she states, shifting her bottom to get the material out from under her.

“I agree,” he says, watching with interest as she peels the dress up and over her head before carelessly throwing it across the room. Now it is his turn to curse. “Seven hells.”

Arya is glad she threw caution to the wind and put on the one matching bra and panty set she owns. They aren’t terribly interesting or racy, but she likes the dark purple color of them and they make her feel secretly pretty when she wears them.

Based on Gendry’s appraisal, the secret is out now.

He is back over her in a second, now kissing his way up her body, lingering at her bellybutton, then at the slight swell of her breasts above her bra.

“Can I…?”

“Yeah.” She arches her back to allow his hands beneath her, where he makes impressively quick work of the clasp.

When he gently lifts the bra from her body, she is surprised she doesn’t feel the need to cover herself with her hands like she has in the past. Maybe it’s because she’s older now. Maybe it’s because he is staring at her like she is the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Beautiful.” His whispered word echoes her thoughts so loudly she momentarily wonders if she said something aloud. But then he drops his head again and starts lavishing attention on her breasts, sucking and licking and gently biting until she is nearly breathless with need.

His hands seem to be everywhere, and Arya’s are no different, touching every bit of his skin she can reach. One winds up in his hair, her slender fingers tugging it but not wanting him to pull away. He seems to understand and groans against her skin.

“You like that,” she says, her voice little more than a breath.

“Mmm-hmm,” he responds, now feathering kisses down her stomach.

A second later she feels his fingers slide beneath the waistband of her panties once more, and this time he tugs them down. She lifts her hips to help him, and once they’re off, she reaches for his, managing to get one hand on them.

“Fair is fair,” she says, snapping the elastic against his skin.

He must agree, because he immediately shifts himself and shucks his boxer briefs.

“Damn,” she whispers, taking in the sight of him. She drags her eyes to his face and says, “Do you work out?”

His eyebrows raise. “You really want to talk about this now?”

“No,” she immediately answers, pulling him towards her again.

His kiss is hungry and deep, but there’s an underlying sweetness there that she can’t ignore. It makes her heart speed up and her toes curl and her stomach to flip and she knows she is _lost_ , but it’s in the best way possible.

Then his lips leave hers again and she lets out a rather embarrassing noise of disappointment that causes his to chuckle against her skin. He briefly nuzzles between her breasts, inhaling the scent of her, committing it to memory. Then he moves lower again, retracing his path earlier and continuing to just below her bellybutton. He kisses the hollow inside her hipbone, then lightly runs his tongue along the crease of tender skin where her hips and legs meet.

Scooting still lower, Gendry settles his broad shoulders between Arya’s legs, dipping his head to kiss another trail, this time up her inner thigh. He can hear her soft, breathy gasps from above and smiles against her skin.

He moves higher, hooking her legs over his shoulders before gently easing his tongue between her folds. She writhes a little and he brings his hands up to her hips to hold her steady. Because he’s just getting started.

When his tongue returns to her, firmer this time, she moans, then swears, then grips the sheets in her fists. He swirls and sweeps and suckles her sensitive flesh, lavishing attention on her. She is still moving a fair amount but he risks moving one hand from her hip down to slide a finger inside her wet heat.

“Fffffuuuuuhhhh… _Gendry_ ,” she groans, prompting him to add another finger, pumping them in and out in time with his tongue. Her hips buck a little, but his one hand holds her steady enough for him to continue his relentless, delicious torture.

Her breathing is rapid and shallow and she can’t seem to stay still, so he concentrates his efforts on her clit, swirling his tongue around it a few more times before latching his lips onto it and sucking.

Arya shatters around him with a hoarse shout, her legs reflexively clamping around his head while she tries to push him away with one hand. “Oh fuck, stop, stop… too much,” she cries out and he obediently backs off, a smug smile on his face.

He places another kiss on her inner thigh, wipes his chin, then scoots just high enough to rest his head on her hip and gaze up at her. She looks flushed, sated, and gorgeous, lying there on his bed like a pampered queen, and his heart swells at the sight of her. “You’re beautiful, do you know that?” he asks.

She runs her fingers through his hair and his eyes close in bliss. “You make me feel beautiful,” she answers.

He kisses her belly and begins moving back up her body. “That’s my intention,” he says, his lips not leaving her skin. He lingers at her breasts for a few moments before returning to her lips. “I trust it has been worth your while so far?” he asks, smirking down at her.

“Are you always this smug in bed?” she asks in return, angling her head at him.

“Are you always this responsive?” he counters, his thumb circling a nipple. When it immediately stiffens under his attention and her lips part in a small, almost unwilling gasp, his smug expression returns.

“Fuck you,” she says, unsuccessfully trying not to smile.

“I’d rather fuck you,” he replies, pressing his hips down against her so she can feel that his words are not empty.

She pulls his head down to hers, kissing him fiercely, enjoying the sensation of his body over hers, his weight on her, being surrounded by him.

Once Gendry is sufficiently distracted by her kisses, Arya hooks her leg around his and rolls them so she is on top.

“You could have just told me you wanted to be on top,” he says, unable to contain his grin as he looks up at her.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she asks, sitting up and rolling her hips against him.

He groans and she does it again, this time sliding back a little bit to take him in her hand. His cock is definitely impressive, bigger than any previous man she’s been with. She bites her lower lip as she runs a single finger down the length of it, tracing the veins. Her hand moves lower, cupping, then gently squeezing his balls, drawing a grunt from him.

Then she slides a finger lower still, tracing a line back and forth on the sensitive strip of skin just behind them.

“Fuck!” he gasps as his body shudders slightly.

“Okay?” she asks, her hand back on his cock.

“ _Gods_ yes… you just took me by surprise,” he says, and when his eyes meet hers, they are slightly dazed and his pupils are blown wide.

She grins, then trails her hand down and does it again, enjoying watching his face this time. His eyes roll back and close as his jaw goes slack for a moment before a delicious groan falls from his lips.

While his eyes are still closed, she takes him in hand once more, then slowly begins sinking down over him. Caught off guard, he makes a strangled gasping noise, followed by a deep sigh.

“Mmm,” she moans, her head dropping back as she takes him in. It has been a while for her, and he is definitely big, but she is so beyond ready that he slides into her with ease. “Gods… so good.”

“Yeah,” he hoarsely agrees. “You feel incredible… _you’re_ incredible.” His hands find their way to her hips, holding her steady, taking a few seconds to just savor this first moment of being completely joined.

Arya leans down, kisses him, then slowly lifts her hips and brings them back down. Gendry’s fingers clench, their blunt tips digging into her flesh just enough for him to grip her hips as he helps guide her movements.

Her body moves in graceful waves over him, their lips and tongues still tangling with each other, and his hands move, sliding over her skin until they settle over her breasts.

She sits back up as he drags his rough palms over her nipples, drawing another moan from her. She starts moving a little faster, a little harder as she feels the sensations build again. He drops one hand down to where they are joined and begins circling her clit with his thumb.

“Unh… fuck… oh… I need…” Her words come out in short, panted phrases, and she digs her short fingernails into his chest.

“Tell me,” he grunts out, moving the hand on her breast up to her face, where he traces her lower lip with his thumb. She tilts her head down and pulls the digit into her mouth, sucking on the tip like she would his cock. His eyes widen, surprised by how erotic it feels.

She releases his thumb a few seconds later and collapses over him again, this time moving her legs back to wind around his. “Oh, that’s it,” she whispers, the change in position angling her just right. “Mmm, harder,” she says.

He had to move his hand away when she moved, so he has both free to grasp her hips again while he slams his hips upwards into her.

“Yes!” she exclaims, and he keeps it up. He’s close, very close, but he’s also determined, wanting, _needing_ her to come one more time before he releases.

He lifts his head and latches onto a breast, tongue flicking, mouth sucking on her nipple until she is panting and gripping his hair in her hand, holding it in place.

“Gendry, _fuck_ ,” she cries out, her body shuddering over his as her second orgasm courses through her, somehow even more intense than the first.

He keeps up his pace, giving her no reprieve this time, and just as she pulls his hair, tugging his face away from her breast, he comes, his whole body as tense as a coiled spring. A low growl sounds in his throat and Arya thinks it’s one of the best sounds she’s ever heard.

She goes limp, her body completely relaxed atop his. They are hot and sweaty and sticky and it’s just _perfect_.

“That was bloody amazing,” he says after a few seconds.

“Yeah,” she agrees, shifting her body a little, easing him out of her so she can slide down to tuck herself against his side. “This isn’t going to do anything to dissuade you from being smug, but I’ve never come twice like that, much less that hard.”

“I’m only smug because I could tell you were enjoying it,” he says, kissing her forehead. “But same though. Not coming twice, obviously, but… wow. That was intense.”

Arya lifts up and kisses Gendry’s chin, then he tilts his head down to kiss her lips. “It was bloody amazing,” she agrees, grinning up at him. “But I need to go… you know…”

“Right,” he says, dropping his arm from around her so she can slide out of his bed and head to the bathroom for a minute.

When she returns, he has moved under the covers and is waiting for her. He watches with undisguised interest as she strolls back towards him, still naked as her nameday, and slides under the blankets with him.

“You caved earlier than I would have thought,” she says, snuggling up beside him with a pleased him.

“Caved on what? The sex?” he asks, and she nods, chuckling, against his shoulder.

“Don’t call it ‘the sex.’ It sounds weird,” she says.

Now he laughs. “ _You’re_ weird,” he counters. “But I like your weird,” he adds, kissing the top of her head. “I like it a lot.”

“Good.”

“Technically, this was our third date, you know,” he points out after a few seconds.

“The YiTish takeout was our first one?” she asks, her voice beginning to sound sleepy.

“And the chili was our second. After the lads left,” he says. “Dinner and entertainment. Those are dates.”

“And sleepovers,” she adds. “Don’t forget that part.”

“That’s the _best_ part,” he agrees, squeezing her. “My baby chimp.”

She sighs and settles in beside him, and he reaches over and switches the small bedside lamp off, plunging them into darkness.

“I think I figured out why,” Arya says after a time. She had gone so quiet and still that Gendry thought she had already fallen asleep.

“Why what?” he asks. His eyes were already closed and he keeps them closed, enjoying the smell and feel of her in the darkness of his room.

“Why I only Baby Chimp you and Jon,” she says. The safety of the darkness helps her speak words that scare her a little. “It’s because I trust you. I trust Jon more than anyone else in my family. Well, I trust my dad that way, too, but I don’t know if I ever did that to him. The few exes I have… I never trusted them.”

“But you trust me?” he asks. “Why?”

She picks up her head and looks at him, her silver-gray eyes shining in the very dim light filtering in between the crack in his curtains. “Should I not?”

“No,” he immediately answers, his gaze burning into her. “You can absolutely trust me.”

“I think I knew that from the first time I met you,” she replies, lying back down. “When you promised me I was safe… and then when I gave you my number and you actually texted me right away like you said you would.”

“But… that was nothing.”

“It isn’t nothing. It really isn’t.”

Gendry wraps his arms around her small frame and hugs her as tightly as he dares. She is so small he thinks he probably could crush her, but he also knows she is much stronger than she looks, mentally as well as physically. “You have no idea how happy I am that you came up here to yell at me,” he whispers.

Her reply is also a whisper. “I think I might.”


	5. Chapter 5

Arya confidently strides into the furniture shop a couple of weeks later, a card in one hand, a bag in the other, and thoughts in her head.

She presses the buzzer on the front desk to let them know someone is out front, and a minute later, Davos strolls out.

“Ah, Miss Stark,” he greets with a smile. “Lovely to see you again.”

“Hi, Davos,” she says. “This is for you.” She hands him the card.

He takes it, confused, and looks at it. It’s a simple one-sided card with information printed on one side. “Oh,” he says when he reads it. “Yes, Ned mentioned something about this. I hoped to get an invitation, thank you.” He looks up and gives her a smile.

“Dad said you two have really been having a good time catching up over texts,” she says. “Thought if nothing else, it would give the two of you an opportunity to see each other in person.”

“I’ll check with Marya, but I’m pretty sure I can make it,” he says.

“Oh!” she exclaims, her eyes widening. “Is that your wife? Bring her, too, please! Dad didn’t say anything about you being married, and you’re not wearing a ring or anything, so…” she trails off, biting her lower lip, feeling embarrassed.

Davos places a comforting hand on her shoulder, fondly chuckling. “No harm done, lass. Of course you didn’t know. I don’t wear the ring at work, for safety. And thank you, I’m sure she’d love to come. She’s a fair bit more social than me anyway, and I know she’ll love to meet you.”

“Me?”

“Oh, she’s thrilled that our Gendry has found someone that makes him so happy,” he casually comments. “The lad used to be mainly sullen silences and one-word responses.” He leans closer to her and adds in a conspiratorial whisper, “Two days ago I caught him _whistling_ while he was sanding a table.”

Arya laughs. “I’m not sure I can take full credit for his improved mood—”

“Oh, I think that’s a safe bet,” Davos interrupts.

She shrugs. “All right then. It’s all me,” she jokes, and the older man laughs with her.

“I assume that bag is for Gendry?” he asks, nodding at the item.

“I brought him a surprise lunch. Is that all right?” she asks.

“Of course. He’s back in the forge though. He’s something to see working with metal,” he says, ushering her to the door leading back into the shop. “All the way in the back. If you don’t hear him, you’ll feel the heat.”

“Thanks, Davos,” she says, then walks through the shop, drawing the attention of the few other people working on different projects. Most look up out of curiosity. One or two watch her with undisguised interest as she passes. She can hear the rhythmic _ping! ping! ping!_ of metal pounding on metal and follows the sound. As she draws closer, the heat reaches her, almost a solid mass as she walks into it.

She almost passes the door. When she peeks through, his back is to her, so she stands just inside the doorway and watches him for a few minutes.

It’s a good show.

He’s wearing dark, worn jeans and a black t-shirt, with a leather apron over those. He turns away from the furnace, towards her, and sets a piece of metal on the anvil. He lifts a large hammer in his gloved hand and brings it down sharply, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing with the effort.

_Oh, my._

She can tell that while it is difficult, hot, grueling work, he clearly loves it. The hammer seems to land exactly where he intends it to every time. He seems to know just how hard to hit the metal to bend it to his will. The metal seems to know that Gendry is a master and it should obey his command.

He looks completely content. His brow furrowed in concentration, but there is an ease to his movements that suggests a high level of competence in his work.

Arya is transfixed. So much so that she doesn’t notice when he looks up and sees her.

“Arya,” he says, his lips curving into a small smile. “This is a surprise.”

“A good one?” she asks.

“The best,” he confirms, his smile broadening. “What have you got there?”

“Fish and chips,” she says, holding the bag aloft. “It’s nearly one.”

“Is it?” he asks, then removes his safety glasses and looks at a clock on the wall. “So it is.”

“Are you at a place where you can stop? I can wait if you aren’t. I’m done for the day,” she says.

“Must be nice.”

“Not too much longer. I’ll have to go out and join the real world in a few weeks.”

“Such a hardship,” he chuckles. “Give me a few minutes to clean up a little, then we can eat. Don’t want it to get too cold. Is it nice outside?”

“It’s beautiful out,” she answers.

“We have a picnic table out back, if you want to eat there,” he says as he puts the glasses back on and finishes up what he’s doing.

“I’d love that,” she says, leaning against the wall to watch him. _How does he manage to look that good wearing safety glasses? s_ he wonders. _How does he manage to look that good while covered in soot?_

“All right, I didn’t notice how hungry I was until you pointed out the time,” he says, drying his just-washed hands on a towel as he walks toward her. He sets the towel down, gently cradles her face in his hands, and sweetly kisses her. “Hello,” he greets with a smile.

“Hello,” she replies. “Lead the way. I’m hungry too.”

xXx

“So,” Arya starts, idly picking through her chips, looking for the perfect ones, “I have a couple of things I want to talk to you about. To ask you.”

Gendry looks up sharply, concern written on his face. “You do?”

She smiles. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. I don’t think so anyway.”

“Okay.”

“You know I’m graduating soon,” she says, starting with the easier of the two topics. He nods, and she continues. “My parents are hosting a party for me. I’d really like it if you would come.”

“Of course I’ll come,” he immediately answers. “I’d be worried if you didn’t want me to come, in fact.”

She exhales. “Oh good. My family can be… a lot, so I didn’t know if—”

“Oh, that’s right, your family,” he says in a hushed voice, almost to himself. “No. It’s okay,” he continues, louder, definitely to her. “I’ll be there. For you, I’ll be there.”

“You have nothing to worry about, really,” she reassures him, reaching her hand across the table. “They’ll love you. But as a person not used to a big family, you might find it a little overwhelming as all.”

“Any large crowd is a little overwhelming for me,” he says.

“Yes, I know,” she gently replies. “But I really don’t want you to worry too much about it. My… my mum might seem a bit standoffish at first, but don’t let it trouble you. She’s just like that. Dad will love you immediately,” she says.

“Well, as long as you warn them that I’ll probably be a little standoffish, too,” he says. “And actually, I’m more worried about your brother Jon than anyone else, since you said he is your favorite. I don’t want him to hate me.”

“He will _love_ you. Trust me,” she says.

He takes her hand and kisses her palm. “I do,” he replies. “What was the other thing?”

“Hmm? Oh, right. My lease is going to be up at the end of the month,” she says.

“Are you done there?” he asks, pointing at her last piece of fish. She hasn’t touched a bite of food in several minutes.

“Help yourself,” she says, passing it to him.

“Can you renew your lease?” he asks.

“I could, but… should I?” she responds, looking up at him, biting her lower lip. _Don’t make me ask. Please, don’t make me ask._

“Y-you want to move? Live somewhere else?” He sounds genuinely concerned.

“Um, yes and no?” she replies. “I mean… I like our apartment building…” His brow furrows and she takes a deep breath. “I’m trying, poorly, to ask if I can move in with you,” she finally says.

“Oh. Oh!” he answers, repeating himself as it fully sinks in. He sits there looking mildly stunned for a second too long, so she starts talking again.

“If you don’t want me to, please be honest. I know we haven’t been together that long. And I’m cool if you want your own space, really. I can totally renew my lea—”

“I absolutely want you to live with me,” he cuts her off, even standing to walk around the picnic table to sit beside her. He straddles the bench, scooting as close to her as he can. “Sorry, I was just surprised, honest. But there’s nothing I love more than waking up with you wrapped around me,” he says, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. He leans in to kiss her, then says, “I want that every day. For as long as you can stand me.” He kisses her again, a little longer this time.

“I was kind of afraid to ask,” she admits. “I’ve been told I can be a little intense sometimes and I didn’t want to overstep or overwhelm.”

“Nonsense,” he says, fondly looking down at her. “Never be afraid to ask me anything, Arya,” he says. “I don’t want you to worry about anything with me.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, but I’ll try,” she replies. She leans forward, tilting her face up to his to receive the kiss he was on his way to giving her. “We’ll save money sharing rent, you know,” she points out after they separate.

“Always a bonus,” he agrees. “We’ll have to start doing inventory of our things to figure out what to keep and what to get rid of.”

“We’re keeping your bed,” she immediately says. “I love it. Plus it’s bigger than mine.”

“My second bedroom doesn’t have a bed in it,” he points out. “It can maybe go there.”

She nods, then looks at the time on her phone. “When do you have to go back to work?” she asks.

He looks at his phone. “Five minutes ago.”

“Gendry!” she yells, smacking him on the arm. “I don’t need Davos getting angry with me!”

Gendry rolls his eyes, then stands. “He thinks you hung the fucking moon. I know he won’t care that I’m a little late getting back specifically because he knows I’m with you,” he says.

Arya smacks him on the arm again. “That’s not any better,” she says. “I don’t need you abusing your boss’ deep and unconditional love for your girlfriend.”

He laughs, gives her one more kiss, then walks her back through the shop to the lobby. He holds her hand, trying not to strut as he notices the curious and (possibly) (hopefully) jealous glances from his fellow craftsmen.

“You are ridiculous,” she says at the door, immediately calling him out on his peacockery.

“And I’m all yours,” he replies, not even bothering to argue.

xXx

Gendry texted Arya an hour later to tell her that she could start bringing things up to his place “if you want… I mean you only have till the end of the month.”

She had laughed and fondly shook her head at him as she replied that she was already packing and it was a good thing he had given her his spare key the previous week.

By the time he got home, she had half her kitchen, almost all of her clothes, and at least one box of books moved up.

“Wow, you’re efficient,” he says, standing just inside the door, removing his boots.

“I don’t mess around,” she replies, walking over towards him, then leaning up and kissing him hello.

“I know you don’t. It’s one of the many reasons why I love you,” he casually says, wrapping his arms around her as she leans back and gapes at him. “Oh, have I not mentioned that?” he innocently asks.

Arya’s mouth closes, then opens again, then closes, and Gendry basks in the knowledge that he has rendered her speechless.

He leans down and kisses her, deeply and tenderly, moving one hand to caress her cheek with his thumb as his long fingers tease the skin of her neck. “I love you more than I thought it was possible to love another human being,” he pulls away and sighs, his eyes still closed.

She sharply inhales, her head dropping against his chest. “I…” She starts, pressing her face into his chest.

When he feels her body trembling, his heart sinks and he turns serious. “Arya? Are you all right? I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I know it’s… it’s really too soon to say it, and you don’t have to say it back, but I’ve been wanting to say it for a little while now and—”

Her lips on his again stop his words. “Shut up,” she whispers between kisses. “Don’t you dare apologize,” she says after she pulls away. “I… I just wasn’t expecting to feel so overwhelmed to hear you say it. That’s all it was.”

He gently brushes her hair away from her face, his thumbs wiping away the remnants of the tears that had wet her cheeks. “I love you, Arya Stark,” he says, his voice soft as he looks into her eyes. “The day you came knocking – pounding – on my door was one of the best days of my life.” He kisses her again, then says, “And I have a feeling that the rest of my best days of my life will somehow involve you as well. At least I hope so.”

New tears roll down her cheeks. “Me too,” she answers, truly blown away. She had no idea he could be this eloquent, and it’s making her melt. “You’re the best noisy neighbor ever,” she adds. “No. You’re just the best ever.” She slides her fingers up into his hair, guides his head down again, and just before their lips connect, she says, “I love you, too, Gendry.” Then she pours herself into the kiss, clutching his head and his shoulder while they plunder each other’s mouths with their tongues.

She tugs a fistful of his hair and he groans, sliding his hands down her body until he can lift her by her thighs. She wraps her legs around his waist as he walks them back to his – their – bedroom.

“You do?” he asks between kisses as he walks.

“Yeah,” she gasps her answer. “I really do.”

“Good,” he declares, then sits on the bed with her wrapped around him. That’s when she decides to break away from him.

She pushes his shoulders and he falls back onto the bed. He leans up on his elbows, watching with interest as she unbuckles his belt before busying herself removing his jeans. He lifts up to assist, then quickly yanks his t-shirt off.

“You too,” he says, his dilated eyes raking over her. She is dressed simply in a t-shirt and yoga pants, and as his eyes rake over her, he can tell she doesn’t have a bra on, the pointed tips of her aroused nipples visible against the cotton of her shirt. He bites his lower lip and slowly releases it.

Her palm pressing just hard enough on his erection through his boxer briefs sufficiently distracts him and when he groans, she steps back to shimmy out of her trousers.

“I like those,” Gendry comments, eyes locked on her underpants.

Arya looks down at the gray and blue striped boyleg panties she has on. She never thought there was anything special about them; they’re comfortable and sort of cute, but he’s looking at her like he’s ready to devour her.

“Really?” she asks. He simply bites his lower lip again and nods. She raises an eyebrow at him, pulls her t-shirt off, then approaches him once more.

“Wait,” he says. “Will you turn around for me?”

She smirks and slowly turns around, grinning when she hears the low hum of approval from him as he sees the back view. She can’t help shaking what little she has back there for him before she turns to face him.

“Do you have more of those?” he asks when she faces him again.

“Most of my pants are like this,” she tells him, sliding her hands up his thighs. “So you’re in luck.”

He groans and flops back on the bed. His legs are still hanging down the side of the bed, but when she burrows her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, he manages to lift his hips once more while she strips him.

She puts her hands on his knees and parts them slightly so she can settle between them, kneeling on the floor. He lifts up onto his elbows again, curious, and sees her slide her hands up his inner thighs before dragging her fingers over his balls and up his shaft. She lifts it, cradling it in her small hands for a second before leaning over him and plunging it into her mouth.

“Fuck…” he gasps, collapsing again. His hands grip the bedclothes, bunching them in his fists as she slides him in and out of her mouth.

Arya swirls her tongue around the tip, then takes him in as far as she can, her hand holding the remainder, working in tandem with her mouth. She hums in approval at the groans and growls she is bringing forth from him. When she brings her other hand up to gently rub and caress his oversensitized skin, he curses again and one of his hands fists her hair.

“Oh,” she gasps, pulling away for a second. He is pulling her hair just hard enough that she knows he’s definitely doing it but not enough to hurt, and she wasn’t expecting it to feel as thrilling as it does. She sucks harder, hollowing her cheeks with the effort.

“Arya,” he grunts. “Wait… I want… I mean I don’t want to… I need to…”

She releases him with a pop. “Hmm?”

He looks down at her. “I need to be inside you,” he says, his breathing labored.

“You were,” she points out, even though she knows perfectly well what he means.

Gendry groans, sits up, and grabs her, hauling her body over his with very little effort. Arya yelps in surprise, but the fact that he is able to just manhandle her like that sends a rush of desire through her and she claims his lips and kisses him with abandon.

He scoots them further up the bed, then rolls them so he is over her. She stares up at him with wide, surprised eyes, eyes that he can’t help noticing look glazed with desire.

It’s one of the things Arya actually loves about Gendry. Most of the time, he’s kind and thoughtful, even easygoing despite being a bit reclusive, but here, in bed, he’s not afraid to take charge. She never thought she would be turned on as much as she is by it. Maybe it’s just him though.

She had called him “smug” their first time. She learned in the weeks that followed that he does indeed have every right to be smug.

He is kissing down the side of her neck, wet, biting kisses that she can feel down to her toes, and her fingers delve into his hair as he moves to her breasts. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, she pulls his hair, he groans, she hums. He lightly bites down, then soothes her nipple with his tongue while he moves a hand between her legs, needing to touch her, needing to bring her to the same brink he is.

“Fuuhhh…” she moans, arching into his hand and pulling his hair again.

“So wet,” he murmurs, his lips never leaving her skin as he moves across her chest to her other breast. He circles her clit a few more times, then plunges two fingers into her.

“I thought you… needed to be… inside me,” she gasps.

“I am,” he lifts his head and answers, giving her a taste of her own medicine. She responds by pulling his hair again, which simply encourages him.

“Don’t be a shit,” she retorts.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, his hand stilling.

She raises an eyebrow at him. _Does he really think I’m not up for this challenge?_ “I want your cock inside me,” she answers. “Now.”

“Ooo,” he replies through pursed lips, clearly impressed. He presses his thumb against her clit and slowly rubs it back and forth a few more times. When her eyelids flutter, he removes his hand and positions himself at her entrance, hesitating again. “Slow or fast?”

“Slow first,” she answers. He begins sliding into her with infuriating indolence. She moans again and adds, “Then fast and hard.”

“As m’lady commands,” he replies, sliding his hands up her torso as he fully seats himself inside her. He continues moving his hands over her skin until they reach hers. He threads his fingers through hers and presses them down onto the bed on either side of her head.

He slowly draws his hips back, then lowers his face to hers as he moves them forward again. “I love you,” he whispers against her lips just before he kisses her.

Gendry keeps his movements slow and deliberate, almost torturous. Arya pushes against his hands to no effect; he has her pinned to the bed and she can’t do anything about it.

They’ve learned that she is faster than he is, but that skill is of no help here. He is much stronger than she is and that’s all he needs to keep her in place.

In the past, Arya would have felt discomfort, even panic, at being held down like this. But with Gendry, she knows she is safe. Loved.

In fact, it thrills her a bit, and an unconscious moan escapes from her lips.

Her moan spurs him into motion, and he suddenly moves faster and harder, snapping his hips into her.

“Oh!” she exclaims, and hitches her legs higher on his hips.

“Hang on,” he warns, releasing her hands to slip one under her shoulders and grasp her thigh with the other. He continues slamming into her, each stroke hitting a spot hidden within her that practically has her seeing stars.

“Mmm, yes,” she breathes, because panting is the only thing of which she is capable at the moment.

He moves his hand from her leg to her breast, thumbing her nipple almost absentmindedly while he leans down, bending his back to kiss her. “Touch yourself,” he mutters, knowing he is close. “I want you to come with me.”

“Fuck,” she gasps, her left hand automatically obeying his orders, snaking between them. She rubs her clit with the pads of her fingers. “Fuuuuuuck…” she groans, her hips flexing up, meeting his with each thrust.

It doesn’t take long after that. Arya’s body starts trembling; Gendry’s hips falter. Then, just as she digs her fingernails into his shoulder, he slams into her. She arches under him and gasps his name just as he stills, his body taut as he floods into her.

His kisses are soft and tender after, even as he collapses over her. When he moves lower to rest his head on her chest, she simply runs her fingers through his hair, bringing a contented hum from him.

“When?” she asks.

“When what?” he mumbles, content and sleepy. “Am I squashing you?”

“No,” she answers. “When did you know you loved me?”

His answer comes much quicker than she expects. “When you stole my last dumpling and then fed me half of it.”

She tugs his hair and he looks up at her with an innocent expression on his face.

“Gendry, that was like… the second time we saw each other,” she says.

“And? You’re lucky I didn’t say it was when I first laid eyes on you in that Direwolves hoodie and blue fuzzy slippers,” he admits. “I’m serious though, Arya,” he adds, finally shifting off of her to sit up and look down at her, sprawled on his bed looking well and thoroughly ravished. “It was almost immediate. No one ever… struck me the way you did. It was, honest to the Seven, very nearly love at first sight.”

“Wow,” she whispers, turning on her side and propping her head up on her hand. “That’s pretty… intense.”

“Did I scare you?” he asks, suddenly looking worried.

“A little,” she admits. “But it makes me feel better, too.”

“Oh?”

She nods. “Because I think I knew I loved you when you came to bring me that bottle of beer for my chili and you showed such confidence in me. Getting my doctorate, I mean. You barely knew me, and you didn’t have to even be interested in my work. But you were, and that meant a lot to me.” He leans down and kisses her, and then she says, “It meant that you were actually interested in me. As a real person.” She furrows her brows. “Does that make any sense?”

“It does,” he answers, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Are you… are you used to people not being interested in you that way? I mean, are guys usually only interested in you for superficial reasons?”

She huffs a small laugh. “Guys aren’t usually interested in me for any reason,” she says.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“It’s true! I’m blunt and nerdy and not exactly what you would call beautiful, and—”

“I would definitely call you beautiful,” he interrupts. “The lads think so too. You should have heard them after you left that first time.”

“What??”

He laughs, his cheeks coloring as he looks down at the bed. “Yeah, I kind of had to, um, assert myself there, or you would have likely had several suitors.”

She sits up and looks at him. “What do you mean by ‘assert yourself’?”

“Um, I called dibs. In a sense,” he uneasily admits, bracing himself for her anger.

Instead, she laughs, flopping back on the bed. “Oh my gods…” she gasps, holding her stomach.

Gendry tries not to be distracted by Arya’s nakedness, but she is inherently distracting. He leans down to capture her laughing lips in a kiss that gradually grows deeper and more ardent.

“Gendry,” she tries to talk between kisses, but he is leaning over her again, getting ready for another round.

“Arya,” he replies, sliding his hand down her side.

“ _Gendry_ ,” she repeats, more insistent, and he lifts his head. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” he affirms, then returns his lips to hers.

She pushes his shoulders. “For food,” she clarifies. “We need to find some dinner.”

“Right. Yeah. I could definitely eat,” he agrees, but kisses her anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

Gendry was a little disappointed that he didn’t get to attend the actual graduation ceremony, but only a little. She was only allotted a certain number of tickets, and her family had to come first.

He knows the ceremony would be a big crowd. He hates crowds. He’d get to see Arya get her doctorate, but he’d also have to see a whole shit-ton of people he neither knows nor cares about get their degrees as well. And sit through a bunch of boring speeches.

So he isn’t _that_ disappointed.

But waiting through it only served to heighten the anxiety over meeting her family. Her _whole_ family. They all came down from Winterfell for this, and her father even rented a hall for the party.

Gendry didn’t see Arya last night because she was spending time with them. She invited him, but he declined, and once he explained it was because he wanted her to be able to enjoy spending time with her family without having to worry about him, she understood.

So he busies himself moving furniture. He enlisted the guys to help. They were surprisingly positive about Arya’s relocation to his flat, saying how much they liked her (and her cooking). No one seemed the least bit concerned about her putting a stop to their gaming nights, which is the part that really surprised Gendry.

The party is supposed to start at 4:00, so he makes sure to stop moving furniture and send the lads home by 3:00 to give him plenty of time to shower and get ready.

When 3:00 rolls around, there isn’t much left in Arya’s flat, and Gendry feels pretty good about that. He reasons she’ll be pleased to have missed much of the heavy lifting.

He arrives at the hall at 3:50, dressed in a simple button-down shirt and dark jeans. Arya assured him it would be casual and jeans were perfectly fine. He sits in his car, watching the entrance for signs that people are there. He doesn’t know what kind of vehicle her family has, so he can’t tell if she is there yet.

He sends her a text. _Are you at the hall? I’m in the car park._

She answers quickly. _Yeah. I’ll come meet you._

He gets out of the car and walks to the doors. His palms are starting to sweat and he can feel his heartbeat in his throat, but when he sees her just inside, he suddenly feels better.

She looks beautiful, wearing some sort of jumpsuit that looks extremely stylish but comfortable. “Doctor,” he greets her with a grin.

She laughs and lifts up on tiptoe to kiss him. “I envy you,” she says.

“Huh?”

“You didn’t have to sit in a cramped chair for over two hours, being bored out of your mind for all but about five minutes of it,” she explains.

“I was moving furniture,” he tells her. “Your furniture.”

She grins. “What does my apartment look like?”

“Pretty empty. The lads helped. It gave me something to do other than worry about meeting your family,” he admits. “Your giant bookcase was a real bitch, but we got it.”

She kisses him again. “That’s so great! Thank you so much!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around him. “Am I going to have to make chili for them again?”

“Well, it doesn’t specifically have to be chili,” he answers. “Thoros was wondering how you are at lasagna.”

She laughs and takes his hand. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

xXx

 _There are so many people in here._ Gendry hesitates in the doorway just long enough for Arya to turn back and look, puzzled.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Maybe?” he returns.

She lifts up on tiptoe and gives his lips a soft peck of a kiss. “I am very proud of you for putting on a brave face for this, for me,” she says, placing her palm on his chest, over his heart, which she can feel is beating a little fast. “But if it gets to be too much, let me know and you can bail.”

He stares down at her. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she answers. “It’s fine.”

“What will you tell your family if I leave?”

“I’ll tell them that you aren’t comfortable in large crowds and wished to go home to recharge your social battery,” she simply answers. When he gapes at her, she explains, “I find that the truth generally works best in these situations, but we can tell them you felt a migraine coming on or something if you’re not comfortable. It’s your call.”

“No, no… it’s fine. I’ve just never had someone be so chill about it before,” he says.

“You need to hang around with more reasonable people then,” she replies, smiles at him, then gives him another kiss.

“Gods, I love you,” he sighs, pressing his forehead to hers for a second.

“I know,” she preens, grinning at him. “And I love you. Now. Let’s find my parents and get this over with.”

“Okay.”

“They’ve been staring at us anyway,” she says, tugging his hand. He groans, but puts a pleasant expression on his face as they approach Mr. and Mrs. Stark.

“Mum, Dad—”

“Ah, this must be Gendry!” Ned Stark exclaims, offering his hand. “Heard quite a bit about you, lad, both from this one and your boss.”

“Oh! Um, I guess that’s good?” Gendry replies, shaking his hand. “I hope so, anyway,” he amends. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Nothing but good reports from both sources,” Ned confirms. “My wife, Catelyn,” he adds with a nod to his wife.

“Hello, Gendry,” she greets him. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“You as well, Mrs. Stark,” Gendry says, shaking her hand as well.

She furrows her brow. “You look familiar though. Would we have met you before? Where are you from?”

“Here in King’s Landing, ma’am,” he answers.

She peers at him, tilting her head. “And your parents? Might we know th—”

“Mum,” Arya interjects.

“It’s all right,” Gendry says, knowing where this is heading. He and Arya had a conversation about it a few weeks earlier. She had asked him about his father, and when he told her it was Robert Baratheon, she had groaned but didn’t seem terribly surprised. Then she told him that her father had been close friends with him when they were younger, but Robert’s continued insistence on making poor choices had driven a wedge between them and Ned discontinued the friendship. “My biological father is Robert Baratheon.”

The Starks are quiet for a second, then Ned speaks. “I assume since you referred to him as your ‘biological father’ that he was not involved in your upbringing?” he asks.

“No, sir. And I reckon I am better off for it,” Gendry answers.

“Most likely,” Ned confirms.

“You look a lot like he did when he was young. That’s probably why you look familiar,” Catelyn explains. “You may have heard that before.”

“No, actually, I haven’t,” Gendry replies. “I’ve never met anyone who knew him when he was young except my mum, and she died when I was nine. But I found out who he was when I turned 18, mainly for health history reasons. I’ve never met him and have no intention to.”

“Understood,” Ned says, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “If that changes though, let me know. He and I aren’t friends anymore, but we have a few common acquaintances.”

“I doubt I will change my mind, but thank you,” Gendry says.

Catelyn, feeling slightly embarrassed at unintentionally bringing up this topic, clears her throat. “Arya tells us you design and build furniture? That must be very interesting.”

“I enjoy it, yes. I’ve always been good at working with my hands, and I like being creative,” he says. He was a little worried that Arya’s wealthy parents would look down on him for his career choice.

“Mum, you should see the things he’s made!” Arya gushes. “He’s so talented… but Davos might be a better person to talk to about that. I did invite him, Dad.”

“I’d love to see your work sometime,” Cat says. “Perhaps next time we visit.”

“Absolutely,” Gendry answers.

“Maybe—” Ned’s words break off as he reaches for his phone, which must have been buzzing in his pocket. He looks at it. “Your brother is here,” he tells Arya.

“Does he need any help?” she asks.

Gendry briefly puzzles, wondering how she knows which one of her four brothers has just texted.

Ned quickly types out a message, and a reply comes almost immediately. “Nope. Apparently Jojen was able to make it after all, so they’re good.” He pockets his phone. “He was just giving a heads-up in case we needed to clear a path or something.”

_Oh. Must be Bran._

“Come on,” Arya says, taking Gendry’s hand. “You get to meet Bran now,” she says, confirming his guess as they walk back to the doors. “He couldn’t get here for the ceremony,” she explains. “I think he just didn’t want to have to sit through all the boring bits.”

“I have to sit through everything, Arya,” a voice reaches them. “It’s called being paralyzed.” A young man comes into view just then, with brown hair and a pointed chin like Arya, but blue eyes like their mother. He is accompanied by another young man with sandy blonde hair and an almost elfish look about him.

Arya snorts a laugh at her brother’s self-deprecating joke, then tells him to shut up as she leans down to hug him. “Bran, this is Gendry,” she introduces, and Gendry reaches down to shake her brother’s hand.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Bran says while Arya hugs Jojen hello. “You’ll have to send me your username. Arya says you’re quite the gamer.”

Gendry’s eyebrows rise. “Yeah, all right. I often have a few mates over on Saturday nights and we play,” he says, taking his phone out, unlocking it, and handing it to him. “Add your contact info and I’ll text you.”

“Brilliant,” Bran says. While he enters his info, he says, “Your mates all right with Arya moving in?”

“Um, yeah, they are; they love her,” Gendry answers, giving Arya a surprised and perplexed look. He didn’t think she had told any of her family yet, because she was choosing to wait until after the graduation party. She simply shrugs. “He can be creepy sometimes,” she says. “Oh, this is Jojen Reed, Bran’s boyfriend,” she introduces as Bran hands Gendry his phone back.

“Nice to meet you,” Gendry says, shaking his hand.

“You’re a bloody big bloke, aren’t you?” Jojen laughs. “Especially compared to Arya.”

“Shut it,” Arya says, playfully smacking him on the arm. “You’re not exactly tall yourself, Reed.”

“Don’t need to be tall when your partner is always seated,” Jojen says with a shrug. “Who all is here?”

“All the Starks are already here, plus most of the people from up north, including your sister,” Arya answers. “I’m still taking Gendry around to meet everyone. You were second after Mum and Dad.”

“Nice,” Bran says with a nod. “I edged out Jon for once.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Arya laughingly says. “Come on. Let’s go find another sibling.”

“You have so many,” Gendry replies as he lets her tug him along.

Rickon finds them next, nearly barreling into them, a lanky teenager with unruly russet curls. He’s the youngest, but is taller than Arya by half a head. “You must be Gendry,” he declares. A young lady catches up with him and he swings his arm around her shoulders. “I’m Rick, Arya’s other favorite brother.”

Gendry laughs a little while Arya shakes her head in mock exasperation. He shakes the younger boy’s hand. “Hey, nice to meet you,” he says.

“Overwhelmed yet? I would be if this wasn’t my life,” Rickon says.

“Hey, Lyanna,” Arya says to the young lady pressed against her brother’s side while he chatters at Gendry. “How long has this been going on?” she asks, indicating her closeness to Rickon.

“About… what? A month?” Lyanna answers. “No one was really surprised. _I_ asked _him_ out though, and don’t let him tell you otherwise.”

Arya laughs. “Good for you,” she approvingly declares. “Sometimes blokes can be a little dim. I practically had to throw myself at Gendry to get him to make a move,” she says.

“You did n— oh, wait, you kind of did have to make it pretty obvious,” Gendry interjects. “But I wouldn’t say you ‘threw’ yourself at me.”

“Semantics,” Arya dismisses. “Ah. I spy Sansa and Robb together, comparing babies. Let’s go.”

“Hang in there, mate,” Rickon calls after them.

“He’s… exuberant,” Gendry remarks as they make their way towards a group of ridiculously attractive young adults with two cherubic infants. “Seven hells, they look like a catalog advert,” he unthinkingly remarks.

“Don’t they though? It’s disgusting,” Arya agrees, laughing again.

Gendry loves her laugh and loves that she is so clearly enjoying her party, even if all she is doing is dragging his sorry arse around.

“Gimme.” Arya greets her sister with hands outstretched, reaching for her baby. Once she has the infant girl in her arms, she makes introductions. “Sansa and Podrick and _Violet_ ,” she coos the baby’s name at her and she gurgles, “this is Gendry. And Robb and Jeyne and my little Ned, who I will get to squish as soon as I’m done with Violet, meet Gendry.”

Gendry shakes hands with everyone, his brain now swirling with names. “You lot need to be wearing name badges,” he blurts. Thankfully, they all laugh.

“You aren’t lying there, mate,” Podrick agrees. “I remember being in your place, meeting this mob for the first time. I’m an only child, so it was a lot.”

“I am too,” Gendry replies. “I literally have no family at all, so it really is a lot.”

“You’re from here in King’s Landing?” Robb asks. “Arya was a little vague on how you met.”

“Yeah, I’ve lived here my whole life. We live in the same building. She came up to my flat one night because my mates and I were being too loud whilst gaming,” he says. “She was, um, trying to work on her dissertation,” he adds, looking rather sheepish.

“That must have been terrifying,” Robb says, completely seriously.

“She was… impressive, yes. And her complaint was very valid. But I was really too busy being smitten to be scared,” Gendry admits, and Jeyne gets a very soft look on her face at his words.

“Baby,” Arya demands, having handed Violet back to her sister.

“Grabby, aren’t we?” Robb laughs.

“I don’t get to see him that much since you still live up north,” Arya answers, her voice an adorable sing-song for little Ned even though the words are for his father. “Violet is still brand new and tiny, but you, my wee fat piglet, are getting so big!” She pokes his round belly and then his nose, accompanying it with a light _boop_ sound that makes him giggle and reach for her finger.

Gendry watches Arya with her nephew and experiences a new and different sort of longing, one he never expected to feel. He is a little shaken to realize he can easily picture her cuddling and saying ridiculous things to _their_ baby, a wee fat piglet of their own with her silver eyes and inescapable charisma.

“She’s very good with children.” It is Sansa’s voice that draws him out of his reverie. “They love her. Possibly because she’s the same size.”

“You can tell Auntie Sansa to shut it,” Arya tells Ned before blowing a raspberry on his cheek that makes him laugh and place his little hand on her cheek. She moves her face and pretends to eat his hand, and that just makes him laugh more.

“She’s good with everyone,” Gendry replies to Sansa. “It’s really amazing.”

“Yeah,” Sansa agrees. “It took me a while to see it – I’m sure she told you we didn’t get on when we were kids – but she really is.”

“She may have mentioned it,” Gendry replies with a small smile. Sansa laughs, drawing Arya’s attention. She gives her nephew some last kisses on his chubby cheek, then passes him back to his mother.

“All right, I can’t have you two bonding over here,” she says. “Gotta find Jon… ah. There he is.”

“Nice meeting you all,” Gendry says just as Arya pulls him away.

Jon looks more like Arya than any of her other siblings. They both heavily favor their father, while the rest resemble Catelyn more. He’s hovering by a wall, talking with a large man with a giant ginger beard and what appears to be an even bigger personality.

When the two men see Arya coming, the somewhat dour expression on Jon’s face lifts into a smile, and the other man positively beams.

“So this is the big man, eh?” the giant redhead says, clapping Gendry on the shoulder. “Not bad,” he assesses when Gendry barely moves under his genial assault.

Arya rolls her eyes and ignores him for the moment. “Gendry, this is my brother Jon,” she says. “Jon, this is Gendry.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” Jon says, shaking his hand. “This walking exclamation mark is Tormund Giantsbane,” he introduces with a nod at the other man.

“You able to keep up with this little ball of fire?” Tormund asks. “She’s a handful, our Arya.”

“Tormund has been heartbroken ever since I turned him down,” Arya explains with a laugh. “I visited Jon way up north last summer and this poor idiot wildling decided that I should be his mate.”

Gendry can only stare, wide-eyed between Arya and the two men. Tormund appears to be pouting, and Jon is clearly trying to contain his laughter.

“Offer still stands,” Tormund insists.

“So does my answer,” Arya says.

“Mate, I told you. She would murder you in your sleep inside of a week,” Jon says. “The only reason I put up with you is because I don’t have to spend every waking moment with you.” He looks at Gendry. “Tormund and I work together up in the northern forest reserve. He’s probably my best friend, but he’s completely and consistently extra in every way.”

Tormund grins, obviously taking this as a compliment.

“Well, I suppose the world needs extroverts too, hey?” Gendry replies, taking a guess that Jon is a spirit kindred to his own. “I mean, who else would do adverts?”

Jon smiles, then laughs. “Arya tells me you do blacksmithing?” he asks, turning more towards Gendry. “What kinds of things can you make? I’ve got a few ideas for some things for the reserve, but I don’t know if I can find them. So I was wondering if you would be able to make them, if I gave you enough information…”

Arya pats Gendry on the arm, lifts up and kisses his cheek, and leaves him to talk shop with Jon.

She stops by a table and picks up a piece of cake for herself. By the time she has it half-eaten, Podrick and Robb have joined Gendry, Jon, and Tormund, and Sansa appears at Arya’s elbow.

“You’re right. He is _crazy_ hot,” she says.

“Right?” Arya agrees, turning to her sister.

Sansa tilts her head and looks at the group of men. “Interesting.”

“What is?”

“Gendry and Pod. They look like they could almost be related. It’s just interesting that for all our differences, apparently we have a similar type when it comes to men. At least physically,” she explains.

“Okay that’s just freaky,” Arya says. If she hadn’t met Podrick’s parents she might wonder if he was another of Robert’s indiscretions. “Hey, where’s Violet?”

“Mum absconded with her,” Sansa answers with a shrug. “She can be her problem for a little while. I made sure to give her the diaper bag,” she adds with a grin.

“Nice.”

“So. Is this serious with Gendry then, since you had him come here and meet all of us?”

Arya bites her lower lip. “Yeah, I think so. Don’t say anything yet, but…”

“What?” Sansa asks, eyes widening with interest.

“I’m moving in with him. My lease is up at the end of the month, so I’m moving upstairs, to his.”

“Shut. Up.”

“I love him, Sansa. It’s been so fast but so great, and… he loves me too, and it’s just right. I’m going to tell Mum and Dad tomorrow, before they go home,” Arya says.

“You’re an adult, Arya. Don’t let them convince you otherwise,” Sansa reminds her. “Don’t let Mum get all _Mum_ about it. You’ve got your doctorate. An educated woman of the world. If you want to live in sin with your crazy hot boyfriend, no one can stop you.”

Arya grins and lifts a forkful of cake in salute. “Well said,” she declares then eats her bite of cake. “This cake is really fucking good. Make sure you get a piece.”

xXx

Gendry stayed at the party longer than he thought he would, but he still left before it was over. Arya, true to her word, was fine with him leaving, bidding him farewell with a tender kiss and a promise to see him soon.

She came home a few hours later with a bag of Dornish takeaway in one hand, a satchel full of cards and gifts in the other.

“No one was troubled by your absence,” she tells him, setting the food bag down on the coffee table as she kisses him hello.

“Oh,” he replies, brows furrowing.

“I mean people noticed you left, but no one thought you were being rude or anything,” she explains, sensing he was a little hurt he wasn’t missed.

“Oh,” he repeats, this time with understanding. He seems to hesitate for a moment, like he’s considering saying something more but isn’t sure if he should.

She sits beside him. “What is it?”

“Did… did your family like me?” he asks, looking more sheepish than she’s ever seen him.

“They fucking _loved_ you, Gendry,” she says, choosing not to tease or torment him. He looked far too adorably worried, so she decided to let him off easy. “Even Mum. Even Jon.” She opens her box of food and eyes it hungrily. “You’re going to make some things for Jon then?”

“Yeah,” he answers, nodding with his mouth full of pasta. “And your dad said something about wanting a new desk.”

“Really? That’s great!”

“Were he and Davos still acting like a couple of idiots?”

Arya laughs. “Yeah. They were having far too much fun reminiscing and catching up. I’m glad though; my dad needs to laugh more. He’s far too serious.”

“Well he’s got a lot of responsibility up there, keeping the entire North in line,” Gendry replies.

“All the more reason for him to find time to relax and be silly,” she counters.

“Good point. Bran can’t wait for out next game night, by the way. Rickon is getting in on it, too, maybe,” he says.

“If he’s not busy sticking his tongue down Lyanna Mormont’s throat,” she responds, snorting another laugh. “Did you see the hickey he had?”

“No!” Gendry exclaims, joining her laughter.

“Well, you’re less observant than my mother,” Arya wryly says. “You missed that drama.”

“Ah, bugger. Speaking of drama, did you tell them?” he asks.

“Tomorrow at breakfast before they head home,” she says. “A party isn’t the right place.”

“Are you worried?”

“Nah. I’m an adult. And they know I’ve always done exactly as I please anyway.”

“Oh, so you’ve always been like this?” he asks, smirking down at her.

“Yep,” she answers. “So there’s no hope of changing me now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Love,” he says, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

xXx

Food eaten and leftovers stored, Gendry disappears for a minute and returns with a small box. “I have a graduation gift for you,” he says.

“I told you—”

“You’re not the only one who does exactly as they please,” he interjects, sitting beside her and handing her the box.

She scowls as she takes it, but it quickly fades into a smile because he’s watching her so nervously, worried that she won’t like his gift.

She leans over and kisses him. “Whatever it is, it’s from you, so I already love it,” she assures him.

“Well, shit, I wish I had known that earlier,” he jokes, and she nudges him with her shoulder in response.

She unwraps the box, opens it, and gasps when she sees what it contains.

“I, um… did some research of my own,” he explains, watching as she brings the silver pendant out of the box, its chain dangling between her fingers.

“This is the ancient Stark family sigil,” she says, her voice almost an awed whisper. “Where did you find this?”

“I made it. For you,” he answers. “Of course you made it for her, you twat,” he mutters to himself.

She chuckles and launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him so tightly he grunts. “I love it,” she whispers, her lips close to his ear. “I love it, and I love you.”

She loosens her grasp enough so she can kiss him. “Thank you,” she whispers against his lips.

When Arya leans back again, Gendry is a little surprised and a lot touched to see tears in her eyes. He reaches up and gently wipes them away before pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re very welcome, Love,” he replies. “Turn it over.”

She flips the pendant over and sees a single date engraved on the back. It doesn’t seem to have any sort of significance that she can think of, so she looks up with a puzzled expression.

“That’s the date we met,” he explains. “The day you came up here to curse us out for being too loud.”

“You remember the exact day?” she asks. “That was a dumb question; you obviously do.”

He grins and kisses her. “You’ve had a lot going on since then, _Doctor_ Stark,” he replies.

“I suppose I have,” she allows. “My dad is going to flip when he sees this tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll wear it? You really will?” he asks.

“Of course I will! I _love_ it, Gendry,” she assures him, leaning forward to kiss him once more.

“Arya,” he sighs, pulling away slightly to lean his forehead against hers. “I want you to know… this is it for me. You’re it for me. I… I want to be with you for the rest of my life. We can get married someday… or not, I really don’t care, because… it doesn’t matter to me as long as we’re together. I hope it’s not too much to tell you this, but I need you to know because I can’t hold it in any longer.”

She kisses him, softly and thoroughly, pouring all the emotions he just brought out back into him.

“Good,” she replies with a sigh, pressing her face into his neck. “Because I can’t picture my life without you in it.” She pulls away with a small smile and continues. “I can definitely say that I was not expecting to find the… the love of my life staring down at me when that door opened,” she says waving her arm towards the door. “But there you were, looking at me with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen before and…” she stops again and sighs. “Yeah, I fell for you pretty quickly too.”

He chuckles and pulls her towards him again. “I love you, Arya,” he says, his voice soft as he nuzzles her nose with his. “And I’m so proud of you. I can’t wait to come to the museum and see what kind of interesting things you think up to do there. Bring some life into that place.”

Her face splits into a broad grin. “You’ve been to the History Museum of Westeros?” she asks.

“Ancient weaponry nerd, remember?” he counters. “Plus school field trips almost every year until I was about 13.”

She snorts a laugh, setting the necklace back in its box. Then she climbs onto his lap to straddle him, pushing him against the back of the couch. “What a renaissance man you are,” she purrs, her hands sliding up his chest. They skim over his neck and then move up into his hair while his hands rove up and down her back. She leans forward and kisses him. “Thank you,” she says.

“You’re welcome?” he replies, not sure why he’s being thanked again.

“For the necklace,” she answers, then pecks his lips, “and the unwavering support, even when you barely knew me,” she kisses his cheek, “and for being the best upstairs neighbor,” she kisses his eyelids, “and for being noisy enough for me to need to come up and investigate.” She kisses his forehead, then moves back to his lips. “And for loving me for who I am.”

“I fell in love with you for who you are, so I would be a complete idiot to try to change you,” he says. He tightens his hold on her, then easily stands with her securely held in his arms.

Gendry busies himself pressing kisses to Arya’s neck as he walks them back to the bedroom, but she finally notices the changes to the apartment due to her things being moved in. Strangely, everything looks really good. The apartment looks complete now. Like a home.

“Hey,” she says, and he stops and lifts his head. 

“Hmm?”

“Look around.”

He does so, eyes darting around the apartment. “Yeah?”

“Our home. It’s… it’s ours. _Us._ Like… my stuff fits with yours,” she says.

“Of course it does,” he replies with a smile, resuming his trek to the bed. “Because you and I fit together. You are mine and I am yours, and that’s all there is to it.” As he sets her on the bed and crawls over her, dropping kisses on his way, he says, “I’m so glad you weren’t the pizza guy.”

“Me too,” she agrees, her small hands cradling his face as she brings his lips back to hers, content in the knowledge that they are well and truly home because they are together.


End file.
